CASTLE ON THE HILL by ED SHEERAN. Story by Kate Foulds.
Mum was a practical woman. She expressed her love through deeds. Tender words and demonstrative affection weren’t her strong suit. Particularly at home.
BOB THE KELPIE by DON SPENCER. Story by Kate Foulds.
The waitress began to fuss over our beautiful dog before telling us us her husband, Mark, played banjo on a song called Bob The Kelpie.
PUSH IT by GARBAGE. Story by Kate Foulds
“You know the guy with the biggest PR job in the country has otosclerosis?” I eye him. Bewildered.
HERE WITH ME by DIDO. Poem by Kate Foulds
Stella slips into half light/silently, beckoning/her twin fussing/on my chest, first, as always
GRACELAND by PAUL SIMON. Story by Kate Foulds.
We met for school holiday screenings of La Bamba and Dirty Dancing at the same tech high gym where we painted thick black circles around our eyes and teased our hair until it looked like Jon Bon Jovi’s – ahead of our Rock Eisteddfod pilgrimage to The Royal Melbourne Showgrounds.
SMOOCHIE by FATHER JOHN MISTY. Story by Kate Foulds.
Here and now, a deer disappears over the distant mound. Three ducks peacefully paddle, winding their way ahead of the flowing waterfall gently calling me towards the steep terrain of my nightmares.
D.C. by DIED PRETTY. Story by Kate Foulds
Over the course of the year Arijana and I saved countless bus fares hitching a ride to uni in the green Volvo, chatting away, distracting the driver who ran the odd red light.