Why older people in their 60s and 70s quietly enjoy life more than anxious tech addicted youth and why nobody wants to admit it
The old bloke at the end of the jetty notices you before you notice him. He’s sitting on an upturned […]
The old bloke at the end of the jetty notices you before you notice him. He’s sitting on an upturned […]
The first time I saw someone cleaning windows in a Tasmanian frost so thick it looked like icing sugar, I
The first time you notice it, you squint. It’s movie night, the lights are low, popcorn’s just starting to crackle
The departures board at Hartsfield–Jackson Atlanta International flickers like a restless flock of birds. Tiny orange letters change, hesitate, and
The night the kookaburras woke me at 3:17am, I realised my sleep had quietly gone feral. The house was still,
The air around 2026 has a different texture to it. You can almost feel it when you step out onto
The first time you notice it, the garden feels oddly still. The air is bright, the gum trees are throwing
The first time you really notice a robin in your garden, it’s rarely because of its song. It’s usually that
The first thing you notice is the scale. Out on the steel-grey sea, where you’d expect to glimpse the white
The day I realised something was wrong, I was standing in my kitchen in Brisbane, barefoot on cool tiles, burning
The first time Ethan turned down a promotion, his manager looked at him like he’d just refused free tickets to
The kookaburras start before the sun does. Their ragged laughter drifts through the gum trees behind your place, same as
The drawer sticks halfway before it finally gives, jolting a small avalanche of rubber and plastic into motion. A tumbleweed
The email sits in your inbox for three days. “Superannuation Statement – Important Information Enclosed.” You see it every time
The news drifted into Australia on a cool autumn morning, the kind of day where the light feels soft and
The onions are just starting to hiss in the pan when you notice it. The chopping board is smeared with
The plane dropped beneath the cloud line, and the world turned the colour of rust. From the window, the desert
The first time I noticed it was on a winter morning along Melbourne’s Yarra River. The air was that particular
The first thing you notice is the quiet. Not the digital sort of quiet—phone on silent, laptop asleep—but an old-fashioned,
The house is finally quiet. Outside, a southerly brushes across the gums, a bin lid rattles somewhere up the street,
On a still, blue-edged winter morning in Australia, long before the traffic wakes and kookaburras start laughing from the gum