What a Stack of Unread Letters Says About FearA stack of unopened letters can look like an ordinary household nuisance: envelopes tucked beneath a cookbook, postcards leaning against a vase, bills slipped…The key I kept from a lock I never openedI found the key in the back pocket of a denim jacket, years after I stopped expecting anything from the person who gave it to me. It was small, brass-coloured,…Why I Write About Silence in Empty HousesAn empty house is rarely silent in the way people imagine. Timber settles after sunset, pipes murmur behind the walls, and wind presses against the flyscreen…How To Turn A Forgotten Birthday Into A Surprise CelebrationForgetting someone’s birthday can leave a particular kind of ache: the missed message, the unopened calendar reminder, the awful moment when you realise…The necklace I wore when I needed luckI do not usually believe that an object can change the odds. Still, on the morning I emailed a personal essay about leaving a three-year relationship, I…A Single Glove and the Quiet Country of Missing ThingsI found a single glove on the tram tracks in Melbourne last July, half-buried in the grit between the rails of the 96 route. It was a child's mitten, mossy…The jacket I wore when I didn’t want to be seenThere was a winter in Melbourne when I treated one jacket like a portable hiding place. It was oversized, charcoal-grey and slightly too warm for the tram,…Why I Keep a Journal From a Year I Want to ForgetThere is a black journal on the bottom shelf of my bookcase, wedged between two novels I rarely open. Its cover is scratched, its pages have softened at the…The Quiet Rush of Finding Forgotten Money in a CoatHands deep in a dusty pocket, fingers brushing the worn lining, and then — that unmistakable shape. A folded note, a stray coin, sometimes an entire forgotten…Losing the wallet that held my whole lifeI lost it on a Wednesday. A flat, ordinary Wednesday in a Melbourne autumn, the kind of grey afternoon where the trams glide past like ghosts through the rain.…