'For years, nobody called me by my name. In Brisbane. I was jen; in Melbourne people called me ana. It was a neat split, my name folded into a recognisable shape, the unnecessary syllables and foreign letters turned in against themselves and shushed. It is a recent thing to have claimed the full breadth of myself. Dzenana. That's what people call me now: in Bosnia, my place of birth; in Glasgow, where I'm studying; increasingly, back home in Melbourne, in Brisbane. I stopped offering the folded envelope of my identity months ago and yet still, to hear my name said aloud is a particular thrill; almost sensual, like new touch. The intimacy of it takes my breath away. I glow at its gentle syncopation, the shallow sigh of its vowels. My name is Persian for beloved. Where I am from, it identifies me : Bosniak, and : Muslims.' (Introduction)