AustLit

'I'm at a picnic eating croissants when it hits me. It's summer and I'm wearing a big floral sunhat; my friends are dressed in unbuttoned linen, and everything tastes like sweat and sunscreen. I'm jousting with no one in particular about my disdain for Troye Sivan when I feel my body silence. Somebody probably made a chiding comment, and I refused to back down. I'm mid-sentence saying something like overrated and twink when I lift out of my body to look down at the Mason below, with my great hat and my stupid opinion. My lap is covered in flakes of pastry, and I can now see that my friends have curved their bodies in a way that suggests that I need to take a deep breath. Ghost me thinks, please shut up!' (Introduction)