Raymond Wu21 November 2018
Unwrapping the tinfoil, Oops, the intonation of a sentence / is overcooked; the content of a sentence is / meaningless.
I don’t mind if it is an acorn, a plum, or a baobab fruit. / They are all fruits.
I shrouded myself in the scent of frosted berries. The autumn breeze drifted into my room as I dressed. It was Mother’s Day. However, as I wore my linen turtleneck and gold earrings, the day felt heavy on my shoulders. In many ways, it was ironic that it was Mother’s Day. My mother’s grief floods through the phone with each call this past year. That morning, she calls me and tells me how she slept next to my Aunty the previous night. She tells me about the groans of pain that were substituted for snores. My Aunty, Amtou, was sick with a rare form of terminal appendix cancer.
Last year, I had been accepted to study the Master of Social Policy at the University of Melbourne. It was something that I was encouraged to do by the Professor of my undergrad, the Bachelor of Youth Work at Victoria University, due to my academic achievement, passion for youth issues, and a commitment to social justice on a structural level. I felt ecstatic, even though I did see a bit of an irony., Three years of hard work only to be rewarded with a further laborious three years?
I’ve found that my anxiety lessens on bushwalks. Standing still, the cool breeze against my skin, able to hear birds, frogs, and the rustle of leaves in the wind. I am able to free myself of societal constraints, prejudice and discrimination.
Sport is an integral part of Australian national identity. Some of our proudest moments as a nation have been Ian Thorpe’s swimming success in the 2004 Olympics or the triumph of Australia in 1983’s America’s cup, and our sporting star players ascend to become national heroes.
You’ve been dreaming of Europe for a while now. The culture, the art, the history. The cobbled pavements squeezed between grand buildings from another era. The locals with their cute accents and ability to pull off funky hats. The fresh bakeries serving up almond croissants to go with a shot of espresso, with not a flat white to be found.
It’s the age old, end-of-semester question: is your cute tutor from PSYC20006 vying for your affections before you move onto PSYC30013 and split ways forever, or is he just trying to get you to complete the Student Experience Survey?
As excited as he was to embark on his Microeconomics breadth, Connor White, 18, has not found it easy to fit in.
It’s the start of a new year. Returning students promise themselves that they’ll study earlier in the semester. Freshers undergo self-reinvention that inevitably boils down to an unflattering haircut.
The University of Melbourne’s new sustainability policies have been riddled with miscommunication between its implementation and its advertising.
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