In early November’s soft, diffused light, I opened my eyes to the clarity of winter’s first whisper. The ground outside lay under a crystalline shroud, each blade of grass ensconced in its own icy casing. …

Location: Interstellar Conference Room, currently orbiting the third moon of Zog, nestled within the spirals beyond the Orion Nebula. Attendees: Cosmic Arbiter: Spokesentity for all cosmic clusters in this quadrant. Renowned for their attire made entirely of starlight and a quirky obsession with astronomical puns. …

The escalating cost of pharmaceuticals has become a critical issue, affecting the quality of life and, indeed, the very survival of individuals reliant on medication for chronic conditions. My personal journey post-total thyroidectomy in 1990 encapsulates a broader narrative of healthcare inequities that are pervasive in our society. When compromised…

Part Four. Uncharted Depths of Loss. On the Sunday of my flight from Melbourne, we were up early. Breakfast was quiet, and we’d begun to pack. Earlier, my aunt had given me her word — like a lifeline — that I would see my mother that afternoon to say goodbye…

Part Three A Day of Disintegration Later that Saturday, the disquieting weight of my mother’s absence solidified into a more grim and tangible reality. My mother’s partner had made it abundantly clear earlier: neither of them had space for me in their lives. …

In the grand sweep of existence, where each life is a story told in innumerable pages and unspoken thoughts, there are certain banalities that, against all odds, possess a touch of the sublime. Think, for a moment, of traffic lights. Those ubiquitous sentinels directed an ever-changing flow of steel and…

Part two Lost in RejectionComplex Family Reunion In the year of magical thinking, one lives by the conviction that love is impregnable and that the very act of mothering sanctifies mothers. A belief that they, mothers, are oracles, casting unspoken but irrevocable covenants into the air, sealing forever the unblemished…

Part one In the winter of May of 1964, life took an unexpected turn. My 14th birthday was a modest but pleasant celebration marked by a pair of dress pants gifted by my aunt and a family gathering with a cake to celebrate. My father appeared on the doorstep after…

Our Symbiotic Mutualistic Relationship The cool air of 1964’s Easter week whispered promises of change as I boarded the bus to Dover, a ritual journey to my grandparent’s home from the clutches of my aunt’s iron grip in Hobart. The bus rolled out of Hobart at the twilight hour of…