Sanu Ik Pal Chen Na Ave (I cannot find a moment’s peace) by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan
Azlan Jahan, post 1947-48 Kashmiri War Fiction by Zainab NasimThe gramophone resounds in the galleries of the haveli, stirring it awake. As the needle twirled around delicately on the vinyl, he closed his eyes softly settling comfortably into his rocking chair with his stack of letters and a lit cigar.“It is not like I am not proud to be a martyr’s father, Bittoo ," he said to his grandson.
SATURDAY NIGHT by COLD CHISEL Story by David Oke
Chisel got in the groove and just after the ninth repetition of ‘Saturday Night’ I yelled out the famous line: “Well if you don’t like it what are you doing standing there for twenty minutes for?” You should have seen the stares I got.
SATURDAY NIGHT by COLD CHISEL. Poem by Mary Pomfret.
Saturday night hot and dark/lonely widow sits outside/on front verandah no lights on
SCOTT STREET by PHOEBE BRIDGERS. Story by Jennifer Manoogian.
The blue star light went to my room, the Pokémon poster and books went to my sister, and the guitar went to a corner in the living room, where everyone fights the urge to strum it when they walk past. What are we if not pieces of our older sibling, broken off and handed to us as they grow?
Sea of Joy by Blind Faith
Bruce Jenkins Bentleigh East, Melbourne, 1969How different from tinny snatches of tunes captured from passing transistors: like smells drifting from strangers’ kitchens. This time I would actually hear an album on a real stereo.
SEALED WITH A KISS by BOBBY VINTON Story by Stephen Andrew
Music was beginning to assert its life-long hold over me, but it still played a distant second fiddle to being a part of a team of twelve boys dressed in pads, batting gloves and protectors.