Michelle Pham23 March 2020
The girl I love thinks belonging looks like blank walls re-envisioned. Bedrooms of low-sheen warm white have become her cross-cultural companion, a familiar stalker and a friendly face, the constant same hue amongst the apartments in her growing inventory. Several taped photographs offer small windows to past lives of different values: friendships with those she hasn’t seen in two years, a family portrait from graduation, and a Caravaggio reprint of Bacchus—these images are staples on her plain canvas, family and art, the enduring forces in her resettling. Though the act of taping photographs speaks to the momentary ownership of a space, a personalisation of the generic in temporary life, she doesn’t mind. These white walls speak of the possibility for new photographs, waiting to be taken beyond the door’s threshold.
When my mum went to university, it was free. The golden years, from when Gough Whitlam abolished university fees in 1974, to her second year, were a time when anyone and everyone with interest could get their education. This was also when most politicians pushing through the funding cuts went to university.
The art upon gallery walls speak of deep histories, people immortalised in paint, lingering in their own mythologies. My feet always take me to the eighteenth-century European section, desiring to stand before illustrious portraiture of affluent women in creamy gowns, or poised families before pastoral landscapes, their homestead grandiose in the distance—beautiful, amorous, unified.
the sky’s sparkling with fractured light
the champagne has bubbled our heads
Animated films are an integral part of the movie industry, regularly topping the box office and working as a reflection of society. Almost everyone has a soft spot for animated movies, regardless of age. Being lost in a child’s world allows adult worries to disappear, if only for a moment.
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