When I’d go for early morning swim sessions, I’d love it when the light would hit the water, refracting and also illuminating the murky sea of aqua blue. I would always think the water would wash away my stresses completely, but no, it was just temporary relief. I see my world revolving around water. Water is in my dreams. It’s in rivers or beaches in Tasmania and I’m always with my baby who is holding my hand. She is like a mini version of her dad.
I want to sit in the sun and read a book. I want to let go of all my fears and anxieties. I want to embrace the future and all the uncertainties that come along with it. I want to sip on some tea in a warm blanket because even though the early morning sun is hitting my face, it’s still icy cold during winter. I want to run my hand over the bump beneath my jumper, finally feeling excitement and joy. I want a ring on a finger, maybe just to feel some sense of security and comfort. In my dreams.
I’m walking the streets of Beirut admiring the French influence in the city. For once, I’m someone else.
We are at a symphony in one of those massive auditoriums. I can feel the heat of your arms radiating against mine and I so desperately long to touch you, to hold you, to kiss you. Then the music starts, the lights dim and they start playing some music from the Lord of the Kings or whatever. I don’t really care, just as long as I’m with you
An IKEA crib will do. My bank balance doesn’t agree.
You will see the world as I see it, full of death and destruction. We are a world divided because we choose to be. Their can be no peace in the chaos.
#StopAsianHate, #BlackLivesMatter, #MeToo & #FreePalestine – a world built upon racism, segregation, discrimination, apartheid, colonisation and sexism. These should be problems of the past but it’ll haunt our children in the future. How many lives need to be lost until we wake the f*ck up?
Why haven’t we implemented gun control laws? Why are we still debating a woman’s right to choose? Why the f*ck is a gun less regulated then a uterus?!
It’s the first time I’ve ever been to a jazz bar. It smells of alcohol and it is exactly how I imagined it to be. Dim lighting and mediocre musicians playing live jazz music on big instruments that I cannot name. My belly now bulging is like the visual equivalent of a fire alarm.
It’s a summer morning and the heat is stifling. I almost choke on the air, stumbling over to the sink for a glass of water, I look back and see you.
I’m just outside of Kuala Lumpur at a night market with my mum and cousins. We walk along the different stalls, the smell of freshly cooked noodles fills the air and I’m completely mesmerised by how this one man uses the wok. The green leafy-like vegetables mixed in with lightly-browned noodles and eggs. We will have a feast tonight.
Some short films from SOS are playing on SBS late at night. I remember my dad sleeping heavily, snoring. This clothes are tattered and he smells like the farm. I cannot get away from the smell of the farm. I wanted to be like him, white. Maybe even a boy just so he would like me more. The rejection of gender, of self, and of everything that I looked like. Of everything that I was and still am. Even now the icy cold winter air prickles my nose like it did back on the farm.
The sonographer has a probe inside me, moving it around left to right, up and down. I’m so uncomfortable but I can see you on the screen. I can see she’s measuring your heart rate. I can see the little flicker on the screen, perhaps the only highlight of my day.
I’m given a pair of headphones when I arrive at the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. I walk around, pacing and staring in awe at the genius of these paintings. I wish I savored these moments a little more.
The trams in Amsterdam are much more advanced then in Australia. It’s like they were built in the future!
QueenB 