Cirrus@Austlit

'First, establish a routine. The Priests of Productivity say that this will keep you sane. Break down your day into even rows and columns as the wattle spreads its light. Do not check your phone when it pings. But your suburban Sydney flat is in the flight path, next to a train line. The world reels between a row of rubbish bins. Your phone pings repeatedly. It’s either the landlord or the electricity company or the Cinder App. The app is full of men with daughters and vasectomies. You must focus on your son instead. It’s time to wake him. He will begin to count the money in his piggybank, yet again. You want him to save up to go to Harvard. He’s been saving up to buy a present for Father’s Day, a present for his father who hasn’t visited or called for seven years.' (Introduction)

'A few weeks ago, the PR department at the university where I teach and study arranged an interview with a journalist from a local newspaper, to discuss my plans for life after the completion of my PhD. I had recently been awarded a small grant to develop a new work of Young Adult fiction, and that, coupled with my recent invitation to take up a residency with Sweatshop, a literacy movement in Western Sydney devoted to empowering culturally diverse communities through reading, writing and critical thinking, seemed to be a lifeline at a time when publishing was going through a significant lull. That same week, eight Australian magazine titles were officially closed, the latest hit to an industry already battling decreased Arts funding and COVID-19.' (Introduction)

'Ramala’s tongue was tied to her throat. Her heart beating like a speeding train. Waterfalls of sweat ran down the creases of her body. She stared at the path in front of her that looked like a tunnel. Unfamiliar darkness choked her.' (Introduction)