Cirrus@Austlit

'I’ve always loved building, fixing and feeling capable in practical tasks – but in a society that still sees manual labour through a gendered lens, the attitudes of men around me have frustrated this desire at every turn.' (Introduction)

'It’s early, just after six, and I’m crouching in the field between rows of cherry tomatoes, the plants’ wayward branches brushing against my arms and staining them yellowy green. On the mornings of hot farm days I dress in the dark and load dusty black crates into the boot of my car, then drive through hills and vineyards gilded by the rising sun.'  (Introduction)

 (Publication abstract)

'It's summer's first gasps. All the doors in the house are open and the air is thick with morning. I'm cultivating a scene for him to stumble into, lying on my stomach in short shorts, some underground hip-hop oozing from the laptop, reading the news. But I'm waiting too long and the vignette is getting stale. I get up and pour myself some water, wander barefoot in the dusty backyard and think about the mess of the evening before. Of riding home early in the morning, spent and sore and relieved to be alone. I've made some poor decisions lately. I want to start making better ones. But my skin is newly clean and the day is glittering, and when I hear a soft, cheery voice wafting through from the open door I get nervous and I can feel it in my legs'. (Publication abstract)