Joyful Strains

For a teenager who believed himself to be ugly, disgusting and unwanted, the rampaging undead, bursting from graves, symbolised his own outcast state even as their exploits offered him a pathetic grab at power and control.

Anonymity is impossible in a Turkish village, privacy an incomprehensible concept.

Melbourne, with its jealously guarded backyard culture, was built to keep people apart.

Melbourne had no recognisable human network in which to place myself. For the first time in my life, I was alone and had to make my own way in the world.

Australia we can’t pronounce your name. From now on your name is Jim.’

Violence, the only language those around me seemed to understand, became my modus operandi.

Jim likes this but Dmetri doesn’t,’ I’d say

Even so, I felt that, should I meet any, I would have more in common with them than with the mean–eyed, thin–lipped pale–skins who thought an olive skin was cause for alarm and revulsion.

was so bamboozled by everyday electrical appliances

Dislocation and discombobulation were emblematic of my first years