Cirrus@Austlit

'Last week, when a vine finally started to flower in the backyard of my new sharehouse, I recognised it as the same variety that grows on my family’s fence, at the place I consider home. My mum and I send each other pictures of the fugitive flowers—pink clusters, shining like they’ve been glazed for us to eat—to make each other’s days more beautiful.' (Erin McFadyen : Editorial introduction)