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Mortality’s hour

Urban solitude – retiree solitude – is tough. Especially if one is unaccustomed to domesticity, for solitude is, at its core, domestic. And in old age, solitude insists on vigilance. A pragmatic, fierce vigilance of the flesh.

The void

By then, coronavirus had invaded my life. Australia had imposed travel bans; several friends who were in China couldn’t get back into the country. We had planned to travel together; we couldn’t go anywhere anymore.

The truth about growing older

When ageing is framed as a problem, we can be persuaded to buy things to ‘fix’ or ‘stop’ it. And when we can be persuaded that ageing is a disease, and natural transitions are pathologised, we can be persuaded to buy things to ‘cure’ it. The driving force here is capitalism...

The ball still swings

Click here to listen to Editor Ashley Hay in conversation with Ian Lowe and Ingrid Burkett. ‘IT’S JUST LIKE the game we used to play,’ a...

Dying wish

I 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.

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