'Since the invasion of Australia in 1788, First Nations Peoples have been forced into the literary images of the colonisers. We have been described as noble savages, vermin, half-castes, temptresses, and problems, just to name a few. Our entrapment in the literary canon of the invading settlers is what constructed and maintained the colonial mythscape of the modern nation of Australia.' (Introduction)
'It’s over a year ago now that I watched from my parent’s garden as the sky turned a deeper, dirtier red. The birds were gone, replaced by camps of bats silhouetted black as they circled above us, confused and disorientated. The next morning, we saw Lake Conjola devastated on the news. My cousins cut our New Year celebrations short, quickly packed their things, and left. The highway clogged with escaping tourists.' (Introduction)
'I take that first bite of dinner – the food somehow pushing my slack body upright, into itself – and realise I haven’t eaten all day. How could this have happened? I never used to be a person who forgot meals. I couldn’t understand what that was, so eager was I to eat. When my hunger goes, I realise what it is to eat: a reprieve from the day filled with tasks; a necessary moment to myself; an experience shared with family, friends.' (Introduction)
'I’ve been in therapy for nearly half a decade and I’m only now re-connecting with aspects of myself that I tried to leave behind. Still, now, in my late thirties, I find myself too embarrassed to look back. From where I stand, it is heroic to relive the emotional and physical experience of being teenage again and braver still to write and publish a memoir about it. And so, despite being a teenager clearly in thrall to shame and confusion, Miro Bilbrough’s memoir goes back and fearlessly recounts some of the intense, awkward, difficult and beautiful details that mark her transition to adulthood.' (Introduction)
