TENNIS COURT by LORDE. Story by Jennifer Manoogian.
Los Angeles is truly a tennis court in a country club. You can see it from the outside, but you need to know someone to get in.
Los Angeles is truly a tennis court in a country club. You can see it from the outside, but you need to know someone to get in.
She was part of my every day – moving through the house like another sibling, her radiance constant, as if belonging to the light itself.
My son’s favourite Elsa costume is that sick as Eurovision-chic sparkling blue and white dress with the long snowflaked veil.
The elements were reaching for oneness. I felt the quality of a marine night.
You ask me to drive you to Bendigo, one last time.
Chiara’s love for Taylor, and my love for Chiara, won out. Taylor was begrudgingly allowed into our home and my life.
It was only when I listened back to my song that I realised what it was about.
I listen to the lyrics, 'we’re fated to pretend', like a mantra. Is this what it means to be in your 20s?
It was the first time I learned what a silent disco headphone system even was.
My name sounds different when she says it, and often, I ignore her the first time so I can hear her call it again.