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ReportageI believe in my mother’s inherent dignity and personhood, although we became strangers to one another years ago. I try to remind myself that, while her illness may have overtaken her, it does not define her, no matter how long it keeps her imprisoned.
GR OnlineIt was the year of Australia’s Bicentenary when I first met Mary Durack. My memory is unclear, but I think it was at the Katherine Susannah Prichard house, the heart of Western Australia’s writing community. She would have been seventy-five – younger than I am now; a smallish woman with hair coloured coppery brown...
EssayDo not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Dylan...