I Am a Tinder Guy Holding a Fish and I Will Provide for You by Amy Collier Photo No. 1 Behold my mackerel. I have caught it for you and...

Materialism isn’t everything but … Margo Hofmann Jurgens I remember when Tony was dating yet another model. His colleague - I suppose you...

by David Benn I glance up at the clock. Nine o’clock Sunday night and the boys are in their pyjamas, sitting at the kitchen table playing...

Two difficult aspects associated with writing have preoccupied my thoughts lately: first, finding the time and inspiration to begin, and...

Maybe it will help you to start writing if you give the question some attention ... so you'll know what space - mental, emotional,...

'Woke' or alt-right? Insta, Twitter or your own blog template? Sometimes I wonder how I'll ever keep up with the pace of change in my...

I wonder where it is? Where did I leave it? Maybe I lost it with my new Rayban sunglasses. I only had them for a week before they...

A story by DAVID BENN With both hands on the wheel of my Mazda Hatch, I watched a steady stream of black-and-red-uniformed pupils alight...

It is the year 1631 in Paris, and in the pale splendour of an early spring morning, the city of death awakes to the sound of a chorus of...

The man in the suit negotiated the last few steps along the dry wooden path – old slats protruding like broken ribs in the dirt path –...

the eye of the photographer ... Or in Rossella Venturi's own words on her morning walk, 'Oops - where's the Sydney Harbour Bridge?'...

An excerpt from The New York Times 19 June 2021 on Malcolm (1934 - 2021): Janet Malcolm, a Writer Who Emphasized the Messiness of Life...

Shoplifting Deano and Rusty slowly pushed the pedals of their BMX bikes along the footpath on the Clontarf foreshore to the old wooden...

When first we practise to deceive where do we preserve the real? Our lonely third eye sees true while the other two point different ways....

Impressionists strive to capture her essence, photorealists aim to reproduce her, orchestras hope to speak the language of her soul....

Her perfume was the first thing he noticed about her as he really hadn’t taken much heed of her up until then. She was just another...

I placed the steaming plates of rissoles, mashed potatoes and peas on the table in front of the two boys who looked down at their food...

The best writing draws on both the individual and the universal Lawrence Goodstone At first glance this statement appears erudite, but...

OH WHAT A NIGHT IT WAS! If the moon is made of cheese, then last night it must have been Red Leicester! Or perhaps it was just a...

‘You should be ashamed of yourself!’ the woman declared. ‘I should?’ Ben replied, opening his eyes and feeling the piercing orange light...