Stephen Andrew Somewhere along the Hume Highway, summer of 1982I catch myself staring too long at the sunlight on her hair, or laughing too loud at one of her jokes, and feel the sharp pierce of an unbridgeable distance.
Brutas Mudcake Rye foreshore, summer of 1988/89Seven years old, and I’d entered the orbit of popular culture and had an entrée to what was as the epitome of cool, teenager-dom.
Roger Wells, songwriter Pigdon St, Carlton, April 1979I woke my girlfriend Carol and played the song to her. "It's a hit," she said and went back to sleep.
Vin Maskell St Andrews market, Victoria, May 2012The bloke with about 30 milk crates of second-hand records was in no hurry. “Five dollars each,” he said. “Or, at this time of day, three for ten.”