'There is a weird dog that I love that lives around the corner. Actually there are two, but I feel closer to the smaller one, mostly because it sleeps near the end of the driveway behind the gate, and the bigger one sleeps back towards the house. They are both really old, and sleep on little carpet squares that the people move out into the sun when it's sunny and then back into the shade when it gets too hot. The weird dog that I love is the small one. It has blonde fur and the kind of ears that are pointy but then flop over There is some kind of problem with its tiny, skinny legs, so they get all shaky when it tries to stand up, and when it walks, it lifts them straight up without bending its knees...' (Publication abstract)
'Video games and I have lost touch over the last year. It could just be that I've gone back to university and I know that if I pick up a controller whole weeks could disappear. It could also be my growing discomfort around gaming and internet culture. In 2014, the Gamergate controversy whipped up a frenzy of backlash against calls for diverse representation in games; female game developers, journalists and public figures who supported the movement were targeted in massive harassment campaigns. The community has never felt colder. Last month I traded in my Playstation 3, complete with a 600- hour Skyrim save. The finality of it got me thinking - about a time when consoles loomed much larger in my life.' (Publication abstract)
'Over November I house-sat and did things like flick through the books on their bookshelves and go through their home movies, watching and rewatching their children being born. I found the family's Christmas stash, deep in the master bedroom's closet, and from that stash took out the foot bath and slid it back into its box after use. I didn't feel bad about this as I took great care to wipe out any dead skin and reasoned that the water and salts in the foot bath were hot enough to kill anything that might linger. Afterwards I would dry my feet on their carpet and slowly paint my toenails...' (Publication abstract)
'The kids followed Hunter out to sea and watched his perfect strokes in and across the water from the perches of their kayaks.
'Cleanest air you'll ever find out here, Hunter said. And the city kids, who'd never been out from the land further than they could touch their feet flat on the sand, believed him. They didn't question him even when he paddled away from the school-shirt blue waters and into the shadows of seaweed and kelp. They didn't ask him if it was safe; he went first and they followed. And it was mostly safe...' (Publication abstract)
'On the boat stood a man of wood and an innocent of bone. The dark brown water of the river was crowded with the floating stalls and, like the others, the timbers of his vessel boasted the stamps of various collisions on their boughs. But beneath the battered exterior they housed the keepers of the market. A strong wind sent the boats rocking like cribs in a sunlit nursery while creamy white beads rattled in the barrels of the wooden man's narrow yellow boat...' (Publication abstract)