Elena Piakis9 May 2017
I meet Rose* at the place she can be found every Thursday morning, escaping the cold in her favourite campus café, laptop open next to a pint of coffee and bowl of edamame. She’s working on her Spanish. “I study languages,” she tells me. She speaks loudly and clearly, moving her lips like an actress; slightly dramatically – which she’ll admit – and often with a smile. “Spanish and Indonesian.”
I was saddened to find there was only a scattering of students at the student protest to ditch the Federal Government’s interference with university fees and funding.
“That top, it’s fantastic,” was the first thing the barista said to me when I entered the Brunswick café – the type of place where The Smiths mellow the crate-furnished, many-a-pot-plant matchbox of a room. “Thank you,” I replied, but really, I was thanking Savers. My oversized T-shirt, a gem of a garment featuring a trio of (stoned, I like to believe) cats playing jazz before a full moon was only three dollars from the recycle superstore – a true bargain for such a masterpiece. But sadly, this isn’t a story about hipster fashion finds.
Dona nobis pacem
I collected the fragments of stories she shared, the interrupted monologues, the almost silent memories and pieced them together.
If you’ve ventured into the world of Instagram’s #smoothiebowl and #greenjuice tags, you’ll be familiar with the concept of ‘clean eating’ and its almost inescapable presence in modern food culture.
a tin of sardines in suits
Alighted on Eucalypt, the evening breeze ruffles his feathers and tussles the rusting wind chime.
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