NOTICE is hereby given of the 2025 University of Melburne Student Union (UMSU) annual student elections. Positions to be filled include (i) Officebearers, Committees and the Students’ Council, (ii) delegates to the National Union of Students, and (iii) vacant positions to be filled through by-election for the remainder of 2025 (if any). This is your chance to help shape the future of the Student Union.
The formal notice of the election, including a full list of positions, can be found at the Election Website (see link below). The website displays the Electoral Regulations, under which the elections are governed.
Information for voters
All students are eligible to vote. The election will be held online on the 1st–5th September. You’ll be sent anemail with instructions on how to vote, and we’ll have polling help points at Parkville, Southbank and Burnley during the week.
Election guide:
The Farrago election guide will contain policy statements from candidates and tickets, and be available online and at polling help points.
Information for candidates
Nominations are open until noon, Friday 8th August 2025. Information for candidates including forms and deadlines can be found on the Election Website.
Where to learn more
The election is run by an independent Returning Officer. More information, including contact details for the Returning Officer, can be found on the Election Website, below.
A Letter to the University
Paul Evans
Uni News
Interview: For Nearly 20 Years, Tobias Titz Has Platformed First Nations Voices in His Polaroid Diptych Series
Sabine Pentecost
Fishermans Bend: Innovation, Industry and the Moral Question at the Heart of Campus Extension
Lucy Russ
Rainbow Warrior Bombing’s 40th Anniversary: A Glimpse into PanOceanic Activism
Sybilla George
Inside Crossways: The Monks
Running the Local Vegetarian Restaurant
Felix O’Kane
Hong Kong’s Mental Health Crisis: Democracy Declines as Suicides Soar
How to be an Informed Voter in the Digital Age
Sybilla George
Cyrus Artlounge under New Management, Alienating Local Artists
Wil Simmonds
Continuous Tripping: the Realities of Hallucinogen
Persisting Perception Disorder
Finley Monaghan-Mc Grath
Which Farrago Letter to the Editor are You?
Janice Hui
To Create Dangerously: Radical Art and Kneecap’s Pro-Palestine Activism
Astara Ball
Farrago is produced and published on the stolen lands of the Wurundjeri and Boonwurrung peoples of the Kulin Nation. Sovereignty was never ceded. We pay our respects to the Traditional Owners of this land and to all the lands on which our University operates: the homes of the Wurundjeri, Boonwurrung, Yorta Yorta
Learning Yearning: Why Does University Feel so Nostalgic?
Saria Ratnam
Sympathy for the Devil?
Jesse Allen
Sayang is a Verb but Jayden Alexander
The Boys: Diabolical Satire
Maxwell
Portman Variations
Fergus Sinnott
Gasp! There has been a Murder in the Farrago Office
Jayden Alexander and Jaymie
Nohejl Willis
Kids These Days
Maxwell
Confluence of Suburbia
Richie Huang
The Weekender & Lyrico
Phoebe Irish
The Force of Water
Esther Alex
44 Collins St Tom McKenzie
44 What is the Definition of an Idiom?
Aaron Agostini
45
The Myth of Sisyphus
Sonnet Mamgain
The Adventures of Robot Cop Maxwell
The Dead Man’s Hand
Sabine Pentecost
Sleeping Dogs Lie
Aaliyah Zaph
Tarot Readings: UniMelb Edition
Marcie Di Bartolomeo
‘As the Numbers Grew, so did the problems’: Immigration and International Students Through the Eyes of Farrago in the 1950s
Janice Hui
The Cost of Love: Materialists is A24’s Latest Horror Film
Owini Wijayasekara
and Dja Dja Wurrung peoples. We acknowledge that the University of Melbourne is an inherently colonial institution, built not only on stolen land physically, but on the systematic exclusion of Indigenous peoples and Indigenous systems of knowledge. As the University’s student publication for 100 years now, we
What the People of Melbourne are Wearing to Gigs
Sofia Perica
Worm Girlz Want You to Get Ugly, Loud and Proud
Dom Lepore
Why Small Gigs Will Always Beat
Arena Shows
Sofia Perica
73 Spacey Jane Offers Something for All You Indie Boys to Scream at Sabine Pentecost
74
Farrago’s 2025 AFL Recap
Zeinab Jishi and Tahlia Cavallo
Are Employees Making Too Much Money?
Aaron Agostini
Puzzles
Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised that page 8 features the name and image of someone who has passed.
recognise our complicity in such systems and strive to actively resist and unlearn colonial ideologies, both our own and the University’s.
Always was, always will be Aboriginal land.
EDITORIAL
Student journalism is hard everywhere right now. Budgets are shrinking, editors change every 6–12 months, and the legal, digital and pastoral load gets heavier—especially when stories cut against the grain of university PR or factional politics. That’s why the Student Journalism Conference in Sydney mattered so much this August: reporters, producers and editors from 19 outlets packed rooms at USYD for four days of panels, skills workshops and late-night debriefs. It was an opportunity to share sources, templates and survival strategies across campuses instead of each masthead reinventing the wheel in isolation.
From this year’s Student Journalism Conference, the idea for a national body emerged—an Australian National Student Media Association—based on the simple belief that we are stronger together. Early talks included sharing resource libraries (from reporting guides to photos), cross-publication syndication when a story risks local suppression and presenting a united front on press access and funding at major student union conferences. Also proposed were regular meetings, leadership roles and a commitment to documenting censorship, funding cuts and print challenges so we could respond collectively rather than quietly.
This collaboration matters because the pressures aren’t only local. Around the world, journalism is under assault—from layoffs and algorithmic choke points to outright violence. In Gaza, the pattern is unimaginably stark. In April, the Costs of War project concluded that Israel’s war on Gaza has been the deadliest conflict ever recorded for journalists, with more reporters killed than in both world wars, Vietnam, Yugoslavia and Afghanistan
combined. The average is 13 journalists a month. That’s not a statistic; it’s a roll call of colleagues whose work kept the world informed.
On 11 August, Al Jazeera updated that roll, reporting nearly 270 journalists and media workers killed since October 2023— and detailing a strike that killed Al Jazeera’s Anas al-Sharif (28), Mohammed Qreiqeh (33), Ibrahim Zaher (25) and Mohammed Noufal (29) outside al-Shifa Hospital. In solidarity, we also say their names alongside others the network has lost in Gaza: Samer Abudaqa, Hamza Dahdouh, Ismail al-Ghoul, Rami al-Rifi, Ahmed al-Louh, and Hossam Shabat. May their memories be a blessing. The lesson for student media isn’t that we can fix everything from our newsrooms. It’s that safety and courage are collective acts. When one campus is threatened with defunding or interference, others can republish, amplify and document. When an editor faces legal challenges, others can share and connect them with support. When a story becomes too big for a single publication, we can report it together—sharing credit and distributing risk.
Press freedom isn’t just a slogan—it’s a practice. Australian student media can show up, compare notes and refuse to allow powerful institutions decide which student stories are ‘safe’ to print.
Covers and Centre Spread: Chiaki Chng
Designers: Sophie He, LF, Ruby Weir-Alarcon
Sub-editors: Sophie He, Ibrahim Muan Abdulla, Mathilda Stewart, Emily Macfarlane, Isaac Thatcher, Erin Ibrahim, Polly Allchin, Agnes McCallum, Tom McKenzie, Bridget Collier. Simon Digby, Andi Misa, Hallie Vermeend, Pip Murphy-Hoyle, Thomas Weir-Alarcon, Lachie Carroll, Claire Le Blond, Angela Nacor, Zeinab Jishi
Your 2025 editors are Mathilda Stewart, Sophie He, Ibrahim Muan Abdulla and Marcie Di Bartolomeo. Farrago is the newspaper of the University of Melbourne Student Union (UMSU). Farrago is printed on recycled paper by Kosdown Printing. Please recycle this magazine. Farrago is published by the General Secretary. The views expressed herein are not necessarily those of UMSU. If you want to raise an issue with the Union, contact the President and General Secretary at president@union.unimelb.edu.au and secretary@union.unimelb.edu.au respectively.
Sophie He, Mathilda Stewart, Ibrahim Muan Abdulla & Marcie Di Bartolomeo
A LETTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
Paul Evans University of Melbourne Alumnus
As an alumnus, I’ve written several letters to Melbourne University administration in an effort to express my profound dismay and anger at their decision to expel two students and suspend two others for involvement in pro-Palestinian protest.
With no response, and following the People’s Inquiry into Free Speech on Palestine (a damning indictment on Australian universities) I wanted to write once again, this time as an article for Farrago
As Senator Mehreen Faruqi has said, ‘the preliminary report (of the People’s Inquiry into Free Speech on Palestine) makes for disturbing reading, showing that universities are turning into ideological battlegrounds where only state-sanctioned narratives are allowed to survive.
Melbourne University Pro-Palestinian students took a principled stand against the unfolding genocide in Gaza. In their 2024 Arts West Building sit-in and the subsequent sit-in directed at Steven Prawer, they exercised moral courage where so many others have remained silent. Yet, instead of being met with dialogue or respect, they were met with punishment.
At a time when the world witnesses the horror of collective punishment, mass civilian deaths, and the systematic destruction of Palestinian life and infrastructure, protest is not only justified. It is essential.
At Melbourne University, protest against a genocide, however, is seemingly classified under the same label (‘misconduct’) as sexual abuse. In 2024, there were 44 sexual misconduct complaints, yet peaceful, ethical protest earnt the same University opprobrium (and roughly the same number of expulsions).
Another example of Melbourne University’s abrogation of their moral compass is Eric Descheemaeker, who remains
uncensured by this same university for a 2023 anti-Indigenous email.
Melbourne University accuses pro-Palestinian students of breaching codes of conduct. I accuse the University of breaching its own claimed ideals of intellectual integrity and moral responsibility.
Criticism of a nation-state’s actions is not hate speech. It is not anti-Semitic to decry genocide. In fact, many Jewish voices, including the Jewish Council of Australia and those who signed February’s open letter against ethnic cleansing, have publicly opposed the IHRA’s controversial definition of anti-Semitism, which conflates political protest with racial hatred.
Movements rooted in compassion, justice and solidarity must not be smeared with false accusations. To do so diminishes real anti-Semitism, weakens human rights advocacy and shames institutions that should be leading in truth-telling, not suppressing it.
As a former student, I am ashamed. I expected better from a university that claims to uphold critical inquiry, ethical leadership and global citizenship.
I’m a teacher now. I try to model the values I once hoped to see reflected in my own education. I attend the weekly Sunday Naarm rallies. I’m part of Free Palestine Frankston, a grassroots organisation committed to justice and solidarity. And I strive to live in this world with conscience, awareness and care.
I call on Melbourne University to reverse their disciplinary action and to reaffirm their commitment to free speech, student welfare and human rights. Anything less is a betrayal of the values this university professes to teach.
UniversityofMelbourneStudentUnion
Office Bearer Reports
President Joshua Stagg Hi all,
The events of Winterfest have been hugely successful, with a focus on bringing together students and facilitating the making of social bonds. A lot has happened since my last report, but I will summarise some of my current priorities below:
CAMPUS CANTEEN IN SOUTHBANK
The Southbank Campus Canteen has now officially opened, following a prolonged period of advocacy. This is a significant step forward for the welfare of students beyond Parkville, as it now offers both affordable food and employment opportunities.
ASSESSMENTS
AND RESULTS POLICY REVIEW (A&RP)
I continue to advocate on the issue of special consideration within the review of the A&RP to fight against the new interim mark that has had a significantly detrimental impact on the students special consideration is meant to support. I have also continued to advocate for three-day no-document extensions across all faculties. As part of these two campaigns, I have begun to meet with each Dean to gain their support for our proposed reforms. As of writing, I have spoken to the Dean of Fine Arts and the Dean of Business and Economics, both of whom are broadly in agreement and were passionate about supporting their students.
SUPPORT FOR STUDENTS IMPACTED BY WAR IN THE MIDDLE EAST
I have been working with members of the UniMelb staff to provide automatic special consideration for Iranian citizens, financial support, and a successful social lunch where students of impacted communities could come together and access support services.
PROTEST RESTRICTIONS
Monday of week 1 will be the one-semester anniversary of the protest restrictions imposed in 2025. I continue to work with external bodies, such as NTEU, HRLC and the NUS, to discuss reforms and how the issue is being approached across the country. Watch this space.
SSAF NEGOTIATIONS
Lastly, I wanted to note that I, the Gen Sec, and the President and Gen Sec of UMSUi are negotiating for the next three years of funding for our union. We are adamant about the need to expand our services and ensure we can continue to support the student body.
GRATITUDE
This marks the end of my report to Farrago. I appreciate all students and representatives who have aided our advocacy efforts. I recognise that the current global political climate is bleak to say the least, but in times like these, the value of our community has
never been more vital.
Joshua
Clubs & Societies
Esther Hiu Wai Luk & Ewan Bezzobs Clubs & Societies hosted our Winterfest Clubs Expo recently! We had huge attendance numbers from old and new students alike, and we hope everyone has found a new club to join. The expo was held across two days and two buildings, with a total of 160 club stalls. Unique displays and stall activities ensured that there was always something new to see. For the rest of the semester, C&S will be hosting our annual Awards Night to celebrate the hard work executives put into their clubs, as well as a second Exec Mixer for the new executives after AGM season. We hope you attend many club events and make new friends this semester!
Education Academic
Harrishman Shobanan & Rhea Sankar
Fact #1: Did you know that your subject coordinators are supposed to communicate feedback they received from End of Subject Surveys (ESS)? During SWOTVAC, we held a Coffee Collective and survey, where we found that many students don’t receive this feedback, and lack confidence in the ESS. We raised this issue in a room full of academics, advocating for improved systems to ensure student’s voices are heard and feedback is acknowledged at the very least.
Our main campaigns in Sem 2 alongside EdPub involve advocating for expanded employment opportunities; reversal of changes to Special Consideration, as we believe this unnecessarily exacerbates stress of students already facing disadvantage, and a 24/7 library space during SWOTVAC/Exams.
Fact #2: Baillieu used to be open til 2am pre-COVID! Message @ umsueducation if you’d like to get involved!!
Education Public
It’s the start of a new semester and we are elated to see so many new faces on our lovely campus and extend a warm welcome to everyone. EdPub has been distributing our KYR booklets to new students and informing them about the role of our department and UMSU. We’re currently running two surveys- about 24/7 libraries and Special Consideration Exams- that you can find on our instagram and can fill out if you haven’t already! Our bi-weekly collectives are going to restart from week 1 starting off with the
quickly emerging issue of AI in classrooms and exams. Join us in room 202, Level 2, Building 168 (commonly known as Thailander Building) at 1:00pm on Wednesday for free food and your view on this topic.
Look out for a shiny new tab on the UMSU website for KYR online version- a one-stop-shop for basic information you need to survive in university and Melbourne. And lastly- if you’re keen to help out with any of our initiatives, please reach out to us on socials on email!
Environment
Jayde East & Helena Mücke
We enjoyed finishing Semester One with some meditation and tea during Stress Less week, and have been working on initiatives to bring during Semester Two! We were happy to meet so many of you during our Winterfest department stall and trivia night, and hope to see everyone again during our fortnightly Collectives, starting in week two, or through getting involved with us as an Enviro Volunteer and earn a Melbourne Plus badge for Sustainability Advocacy in the process! We’re excited to announce that applications for Green Grants have reopened for clubs wishing to run sustainability-focussed or improve the sustainability of their events; apply via the UMSU website!
We have many exciting initiatives to bring throughout this semester, starting with our first collective, where we’ll be discussing the 2024 UniMelb Sustainability Report in order to improve understanding and gather feedback to present to the University. Stay tuned via @umsuenviro on Instagram!
Welfare
Kunal Dewani & Filia Cahyadi
UMSU Welfare has had an amazing year so far, with over 12,000 serves distributed to students through Union Mart in Semester 1 and more through our other free food initiatives. During the very stressful assignment and exam season, we organised Stress Less Week for students to relax with Therapy Dogs and Donuts, Clothes Swap and Free Food. Students also engaged and contributed to Princess Ida’s Mural Painting, a Welfare and Creative Arts collaboration. As part of the Stress Less Week, Creative Arts collaborated with us on Dance Therapy session and Paint n Sip. We participated in UMSU Enviro’s Thrift Market with over 900 attendants to our Clothes Swaps. In the upcoming semester, we will be there at R U OK Day (11 September 2025) and the Sustainability Week (18 September 2025). Union Mart, your free grocery store at the University of Melbourne will be running as usual from 10am to 11am and 4pm to 5pm every weekday. We will also be present at Southbank on Tuesdays and Burnley on Wednesdays, with plans to expand Union Mart to Werribee, Creswick, Dookie and Shepparton. Lookout for more updates on Union Mart in other campuses. The Campus Canteen at Parkville has been a success with
students receiving $5 meals. The Canteen is present right next to the Prince Alfred’s Hotel on Grattan Street, catering to all dietary requirements for Lunch and Dinner. The Southbank Canteen, located in the Performing Arts Building (Building 879) on Dodds Street, with the same menu as the Parkville campus opened recently.
UMSU Welfare’s impact on the student community is the result of the hard work and dedication of its volunteers. We encourage all students to join the team. It is a great opportunity to get involved, help the student community and obviously, make new friends. The Welfare team can also support you in any difficulty you might be facing, be it related to housing, cost of living or even your education. Feel free to contact us via welfare@union. unimelb.edu.au. We are here to fight for you.
UMSU General Secretary, Activities, Burnley, Creative Arts, Disabilities, Indigenous, International, People of Colour, Queer, Southbank and Women’s did not submit reports.
Uni News
Staff Questions Unanswered: Second All Staff Town Hall
Mathilda Stewart
The University of Melbourne held its second ‘all staff town hall’ for the year on 3 June at The Spot building. The event began with an opening address from Vice Chancellor Emma Johnston, followed by a Q& A session intended to respond to questions submitted by staff via an online portal.
Although all staff were invited to submit questions, only pre-approved ones were initially displayed for the panel of senior management to answer, which included the Vice Chancellor and Deputy Vice Chancellor (International) Michael Wesley. Live questions from staff in attendance eventually appeared on the portal, with a few being addressed by the panel. However, all remaining staffsubmitted questions were abruptly deleted from the system shortly after.
One question addressed to the Vice Chancellor was submitted by National Tertiary Education Union (NTEU) UniMelb Branch President David Gonzalez, who raised concerns regarding ‘an atmosphere of mistrust between leadership and staff’ influenced by the University’s use of ‘tools like workstation monitoring, mobile CCTV vehicles and wifi tracking’, but Vice Chancellor Johnston denied the University had increased monitoring of staff.
Following the event, NTEU members approached the organisers for clarification on why staff questions had been deleted but were not provided with an explanation.
UMSU Students’ Councillor Bella
Beiraghi
Arrested
Mathilda Stewart
Bella Beiraghi, a national convener of Students for Palestine and UMSU Students’ Councillor representing the Left
Action-Free Palestine ticket, was arrested by police at the National Day of Action protest on Thursday 7 August.
At the time of the arrest, Beiraghi was engaged in an act of nonviolent protest, sitting in the intersection of Flinders and Bourke Streets with a group of other protesters. Beiraghi reported to Farrago that she was arrested along with around five others for obstructing the road and refusing a move-on order, issued a temporary 24 hour ban from the city and advised she would be charged on summons.
‘We were sitting down peacefully protesting when armed police ripped us off the ground and carried us away. This is widely over the top and an egregious attack on our civil liberties. We have the right to protest. This shows the lengths that the police will go to in attempting to silence those who stand against the genocide in Gaza,’ said Beiraghi.
Parkville Metro Tunnel to Open Partially in 2025, Full Operations not Guaranteed
Ibrahim Muan
The Victorian Government has stopped short of guaranteeing that Melbourne’s $15 billion Metro Tunnel will run at full capacity when it opens later this year, after reports that two CBD stations—Town Hall and State Library—are behind schedule.
Minister Steve Dimopoulos initially dismissed the claim, then called it ‘preemptive’. saying the timetable was still being finalised. According to the report cited by ABC, some services could use the new nine-kilometre tunnels in 2025, but peak-hour trains may keep diverting via the City Loop until early 2026. The state says details will be announced once the timetable is settled.
The Opposition criticised the lack of clarity, while the Public Transport Users Association said a partial opening ‘would not be idea’. Despite cost overruns and
construction pressures, the government argues the project will be open by year’s end, earlier than the original late-2026 target.
Parkville Station is part of the project; a phased opening could mean limited or off-peak tunnel services initially, with full peak-hour benefits not arriving until 2026 if delays continue, prolonging the wait for University of Melbourne students who have been waiting for the completion and start of operations on the Parkville Metro Station.
Students Stage National Walkout for Palestine
Ibrahim Muan
Hundreds of university students walked out of class on Thursday, 7 August, rallying in cities across Australia to demand sanctions on Israel and university divestment from weapons-linked companies.
In Melbourne, students from UniMelb and other campuses gathered at the State Library before marching through the CBD.
Organised by Students for Palestine, the strike centred on three demands: that the federal government sanction Israel; that universities end ties with weapons manufacturers; and that campus authorities stop disciplining pro-Palestine activists.
Victoria Police intervened to clear intersections near Flinders and Swanston streets, describing the protest as ‘largely peaceful’ but confirming several arrests for obstructing traffic.
Student organisers framed the action as a response to Australia’s pending recognition of Palestinian statehood, arguing symbolic moves must be matched by material measures such as sanctions and divestment.
National Student Referendum on Palestine set for 20–28 August
Ibrahim Muan
Students for Palestine (SPA) and the National Union of Students will hold a nationwide campus referendum between 20 and 28 August at universities and tertiary institutions across Australia, including TAFES.
Students will be asked to vote on two motions: censuring the Australian government over Gaza and urging universities to end partnerships with weapons companies. The SPA registration form lists the University of Melbourne among participating campuses.
Universities will run the vote through student general meetings (SGMs), with an online ballot option available for institutions without active student bodies.
The week-long campaign aligns with recent national efforts and is organised as a platform for students to express their views on sanctions and divestment. The referendum takes place amid ongoing national initiatives, including events led by SPA and the Palestine Action Group, such as the historic march for humanity on 4 August, the National Day of Action on 7 August, and the upcoming Nationwide March for Palestine on 24 August.
Students can register to vote via SPA’s site by selecting their campus; organisers say details for each campus meeting will be shared after sign-up.
UniMelb advertises to Hire Vaping Prevention Officer
Mathilda Stewart
The University of Melbourne has advertised to hire a ‘Vaping Prevention Project Officer’ with a remuneration range between $98,870 and $107,023, plus 17 per cent superannuation.
The role is part of the University’s broader program, in partnership with VicHealth, to educate students about the harms of vapes and e-cigarettes and reduce use on and off campus.
Vaping rates among young adults aged 18-24 years dropped from 20 per cent in
2023 to 18 per cent in 2025, according to Generation Vape Project.
Doherty Institute Team Uses mRNA to Flush Out ‘Hidden’ HIV in Lab Tests
Harper Broome, Ibrahim Muan and Sophie He
Researchers at the Doherty Institute have developed a world-first technique for delivering mRNA into hard-to-reach resting CD4+ T cells, the immune cells where Human immunodeficiency virus (HIV) remains dormant, successfully ‘waking’ the virus.
Published on 29 May 2025 in Nature Communications, the study describes a new lipid nanoparticle formulation (‘LNP X’) that transfected more than 75 per cent of resting T cells without triggering toxicity or cell activation, enabling mRNA cargos to reverse HIV latency.
HIV, the virus that causes acquired immunodeficiency syndrome (AIDS) remains uniquely difficult to cure. While all viruses hijack human cells to replicate, the body’s immune cells can typically identify and destroy the viral proteins. In contrast, HIV ‘hides’ in some cells without expressing any viral proteins and thus remains a lifelong disease.
The Doherty Institute’s recent findings have discovered a way to flag silently infected cells. They have developed ‘lipid nanoparticles’, microscopic hollow oil droplets with genetic mRNA instructions within them, which merge with infected cells and instruct cells to search for HIV. While this technology does not kill infected cells and must be combined with other therapies before it can be offered to patients, it could expose the invisible virus. It is also unclear whether these lipid nanoparticles expose 100 per cent of infected cells, meaning some virus may still be able to evade detection and restart the infection.
Researchers emphasise that the findings are preclinical, and further animal and human studies are necessary. Nevertheless, this finding offers hope to the 40 million people globally living with HIV that a permanent cure may one
day be found.
The Peter Doherty Institute for Infection and Immunity is a joint venture between the University of Melbourne and the Royal Melbourne Hospital.
Australia to Recognise Palestinian state at UN in September, With Conditions Attached
Ibrahim Muan
Australia will officially recognise the State of Palestine at the UN General Assembly in September, in a move the Albanese Government claims will boost momentum for a two-state solution.
‘A two-state solution is humanity’s best hope to break the cycle of violence in the Middle East and to bring an end to the conflict, suffering and starvation in Gaza.’
The decision is conditional on commitments from the Palestinian Authority (PA) to undertake governance reforms, end prisoner payments, demilitarise, hold elections, and recognise Israel’s right to exist; the government says there can be no role for Hamas in a future Palestinian state.
Prime Minister Anthony Albanese said the Palestinian Authority had agreed to Australia’s conditions of recognition.
By making the pledge, Australia aligns with the United Kingdom, Canada, and France, allies who have all pledged recognition of Palestine. Regionally, the shift brings Australia into line with many Southeast Asian neighbours that have long recognised Palestine, while placing it at odds with several Pacific states that remain aligned with the US and Israel.
Interview: For Nearly 20 Years, Tobias Titz Has Platformed First Nations Voices in His Polaroid Diptych Series
Sabine Pentecost
Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised that the following piece features the name and image of someone who has passed.
When Daisy Kadibil was eight years old, she walked along 1,600km of rabbit-proof fence with her sister and cousin to find her way back to Country.
She looks at the camera, one eye scrutinising, one eye shut. In black and white polaroid, the lines of experience on her face etch dark into the image, contrasting the white tufts of her hair that melt into the flat, pale background. On the opposite side of the diptych is a second frame, a blank negative where Daisy has carved a message:
‘I come from Jigalong they took me away but I walked all around country back to where I was born I came back’
These words make up half of a story told through portraiture by Tobias Titz, a German photographer who has dedicated much of his professional life to telling the stories of First Nations peoples in remote communities such as the Pilbara desert, where Kadibil was born.
Titz recounts this moment of ‘meeting
Tobias Titz Shooting with His Horseman Polaroid Camera
Portrait of Daisy Kadibil, 2009 Tobias Titz
royalty’ in his kitchen, surrounded by an eclectic collection of First Nations artwork. Behind him is a warm painting by Ngaruwanajirri Group artist Alfonso Puautjimi of a bicycle surrounded by desert.
Titz has been nominated as a finalist for the 2025 National Photographic Portrait Prize for his portrait of the Tiwi Islands artist, which will be his second consecutive nomination for this prize and third nomination overall.
But this polaroid project is not a recent endeavour, with the first instance of depicting First Nations communities through the diptych work beginning in 2006.
‘A friend of mine, she was working in the Pilbara region at the time and so that’s when that first project came together,’ Titz shares. He spoke to the leader of the Port Hedland Language Centre, who highlighted the upcoming anniversary of the 1967 Referendum.
‘She said, let’s do a project asking people what they think.’ He explained. ‘So, we applied for funding and didn’t get any, but I said let’s do it anyway.’
After moving to Australia, Titz noticed a silence of First Nations voices in policies affecting their communities, instilling a desire to increase representation.
‘I never heard any opinions and thoughts from First Nations people about all this stuff, so I thought it might be good to ask them about it or see what they think.’
Titz incorporates a unique element of collaboration into his portraiture, achieved through a combination of polaroids and etchings.
‘It’s two negatives or two images. One is the portrait, and then there’s a second blank one.’ According to Titz, the camera stays where it is, and the person walks out of the frame for him to take the blank background image. ‘I wash it, and then give it to the person, and they can etch into the negative.’
The subject etches into the emulsion to reveal their message in black scratches. Some people write a message, some draw their totem, some etch their signature into the negative.
‘Most people, their first language is not
‘in twenty years, no two subjects have ever created the same etching’
English,’ Titz says, explaining the diversity of responses. ‘I took photos of some people who couldn’t write.’
He says that in twenty years, no two subjects have ever created the same etching, despite having taken the project all over Australia.
‘I’ve set up these sorts of daylight studios all over the country,’ he shares of the process. ‘I just try to find a shady spot.’
His vintage Horseman camera does not need electricity, so the potential locations are incredibly flexible. The on-shoot kit consists of a bucket of water, the camera, a white sheet for the portrait background and daylight.
adapting his method to involve subjects in the image-making process. The immediacy of polaroid development also caters to this exchange.
‘I always give the positive to the person, and then I keep the negative, so they get something out of it straight away as well.’
Titz points out an image taken of former boxer, Noel Charlie.
‘He came to me and said: Hey, can you take my photo?, because he wanted that little photo to have.’
This portrait was later nominated for the 2012 National Portrait Prize and now looms large in Titz’s living room.
Titz fell in love with the polaroid medium very early in his career.
‘Everything is very slow and still, it’s sort of like meditation.’
His signature style is inspired by the work of August Sander and Robert Frank: figures he was exposed to during his studies in Munich. He recalls a university assignment that challenged him to take
One of the driving values behind the project was to create a two-way relationship between subject and photographer.
After shooting, Titz hangs the developing polaroids up wherever available. He recalls hanging strings of photos inside his tent while following the Martu community on a protest against proposed uranium mining in Karlamilyi National Park.
The expanded exhibition was first toured in 2011-2012 and platformed issues such as the 1946 Pilbara Strike, the Freedom Rides and Kevin Rudd’s apology to First Nations peoples.
‘We went to five, six communities,’ he recalled. ‘They gave workshops on all the different events, they had a band playing, put on a barbecue, showed the works. People really enjoyed it.’
One of the driving values behind the project was to create a two-way relationship between subject and photographer.
‘I thought it was a bit one sided, you know, taking a portrait of somebody, but they didn’t have an input in it.’ He explains
photos in the style of Sander.
‘I took a photo of a railway worker in Munich at the station. I still remember the image: in the background you get the railway going into the horizon, and he’s standing there in the front with his outfit and his tools.’
He now teaches this formative assignment to his own students at Monash University.
However, fellow photographer and friend Andrew Chapman attests that Titz is ‘as individual as you can get in photography these days’.
As both a subject of Titz’s work and a photographer himself, Chapman provides a technical insight into the skill behind Titz’s seemingly effortless style. He reveals that the margin for error in large format photography is wider than other forms, but that Titz’s ability to get the shot almost every time is both infuriating and incredible.
‘He gets an intensity that is hard to
achieve from subjects.’ Chapman says. ‘It’s not just the polaroid film style; it’s the way he captures people.’
With regards to reconciliation with First Nations peoples, Titz says ‘there’s still so many decisions made for them, but not with them.’
He explains that while photography is not going to change that, it can highlight certain stories, bringing them out into the open.
‘That might make people more likely to understand it.’
Sharon Bulkeley, Senior Curator at the Museum of Australian Democracy where Titz has exhibited several times, says of the photographer that ‘his professionalism, flexibility, enthusiasm
and creativity, combined with his friendly personality and great talent as a photographer make him an asset to any team.’
Titz is currently collaborating with Arts Project Australia, a Melbournebased disabled artist collective, on the next phase of his polaroid project, a collaboration he says is ‘inspiring’.
FISHERMANS BEND: BRINGING INNOVATION TO LIFE AT AN INDUSTRIAL SCALE
Alfonso Puautjimi, 2024
Tobias Titz
alongside major players including Boeing, BAE Systems, Siemens, and the Defence Science and Technology Group. The University, through the Defence Science Institute–a joint venture with state and federal government–has positioned itself as a key contributor to Australia’s defence ambitions, especially under AUKUS Pillar II.
Documents show that Melbourne has marketed its expertise in submarine propulsion, electronic warfare, and autonomous systems, and that it is actively tailoring degrees to meet the specific AUKUS needs.
This dual-use research has prompted growing discomfort. As AI algorithms designed for maritime surveillance and nuclear submarines become tangible AUKUS deliverables, and ‘‘nuclear-aware’ engineers and scientists’ become a Unimelb target, the line between academic innovation and military escalation grows blurrier.
‘While the campus is being sold as an ‘innovation precinct’, much of that innovation is geared toward military applications.’
Whose Campus Is It, Anyway?
The defence focus of Fishermans Bend has drawn criticism from student groups, particularly in the wake of the ongoing war in Gaza. In 2024, students disrupted a University-hosted Boeing event on women in STEM, accusing the institution of jargonising its involvement in weapons development to and downplay its complicity in the deaths of Gazans.
Both BAE Systems and Boeing are part of the supply chain of weapons used in Gaza. Students allege that the University is contributing to genocide, a charge the University has firmly rejected.
These protests reflect growing calls for transparency and divestment from weapons companies across the tertiary
sector. The University of Melbourne has yet to release a full list of its defence contracts.
Critics argue the University’s military alignment fails to represent student values and interests. While the campus is being sold as an ‘innovation precinct,’ much of that innovation is geared toward military applications.
The University maintains that it does not engage in direct weapons manufacturing, but rather supports research with ‘national interest’ outcomes. Yet as Fishermans Bend nears completion, the question endures: what kind of future is being built, and who gets to shape it?
Rainbow Warrior Bombing’s 40th Anniversary:
A Glimpse into Pan-Oceanic Activism
Sybilla George
The Rainbow Warrior 10 July 2025 marked 40 years since two explosions occurred onboard Greenpeace’s flagship vessel the Rainbow Warrior while it was at dock in Auckland, New Zealand. It was quickly revealed that French undercover agents had planted the bombs. This act of state terrorism tragically killed Greenpeace photographer Fernando Pereira and sunk the ship on the eve of its protest voyage to France’s nuclear testing site in the South Pacific.
From 1966 to 1996, France undertook 193 nuclear tests at Moruroa and Fangataufa Atolls in French Polynesia/ Mā’ohi Nui, which remains a French territory today. Until testing moved underground in 1975, 41 nuclear bombs were detonated in the atmosphere. The establishment of the French nuclear testing program in the Pacific followed nuclear testing programs by the
Rally against nuclear submarine, USS ‘Gurnard’, John B. Ellis, University of Melbourne Archives.
United States in the Marshall Islands (1946-58) in the Pacific Ocean, and by the British on Christmas (Kiritimati) Island in the Indian Ocean and in South Australia (1952-58).
Greenpeace first sailed to French Polynesia/ Mā’ohi Nui to protest French nuclear testing in 1972. In May 1985, a month prior to its sinking, the Rainbow Warrior evacuated more than 300 people from Rongelap Atoll in the Marshall Islands, irradiated by fallout from US thermonuclear weapons testing on nearby Bikini Atoll.
Despite the intention of the French state, the bombing of the Rainbow Warrior only galvanised support for the antinuclear cause. Its anniversary is a time for reflection on the loss of life and livelihood as a result of nuclear testing. Not only Pereira’s death, but the many thousands of Indigenous lives
Rally against nuclear submarine, USS Gurnard , John B Ellis, University of Melbourne Archives
disproportionally impacted by nuclear testing in Oceania. 40 years on, Farrago revisits the pan-Oceanic solidarity movements of the 70s through to the 90s that fought to bring an end to the nuclear era in the Pacific.
Pan-Oceanic Anti-Nuclear Solidarity
Organised protest against nuclear testing in the Pacific and Australia began as early as the 1950s.
The first wave of regional solidarity against French nuclear testing arose in the early 1970s as concern grew regarding the health impacts of atmospheric nuclear detonations. These tests polluted the atmosphere with radioactive particles which spread throughout the region and the world via the air, earth and sea.
In Australia, major campaigns such as People for Nuclear Disarmament (PND) and Movement Against Uranium Mining (MAUM) mobilised. The Hawke government suspended uranium exports to France from 1983 and in the same year announced its ‘three mines policy’, which restricted uranium mining in Australia.
The Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific (NFIP) emerged in the mid70s as an region-wide, Indigenous-led organisation that expanded the antinuclear agenda from solely an ecological perspective, to explicitly address issues of political independence, sovereignty and self-determination in the Pacific Islands and Pacific Rim countries.
From 1975, the NFIP assembled delegates from member countries and territories across the Pacific at major conferences every three to five years, with the 1978 conference in the Federated States of Micronesia adopting a dual agenda: an end to nuclear testing, and political independence.
The NFIP went on to establish the Pacific Concerns Resource Centre (PCRC) as its organisation and communications hub. Operations included the publication of a monthly magazine Pacific News Bulletin to share information and stories across its vast network.
The attack on the Rainbow Warrior in 1985 coincided with the 40th anniversary of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings, the signing of the Treaty of Rarotonga to establish a South Pacific Nuclear Free
Zone (SPNFZ) and the publication of the Royal Commission into Nuclear Tests in Australia.
The Archives
The NFIP is a ‘history still waiting to be written,’ says journalist, researcher and former NFIP member Nic Maclellan, speaking to Farrago
A slice of Australia’s antinuclear history can be found within the University of Melbourne’s archives. An archives staff member told Farrago that the Campaign for International Co-operation and Disarmament (CICD) gradually transferred its archives to the University from 1979 onwards.
The University also maintains a relationship with Trades Hall to preserve its records, accounting for its extensive labour movement archives. The John Ellis Collection, images from which accompany this article, includes four decades of photographs capturing the labour movement in Victoria and associated campaigns across nuclear and environmental issues.
Anti-Nuclear Activism in the 21st Century
weapons. The Treaty opened for signature in 2017–the same year ICAN was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize–and entered into force in 2021, with 94 countries as signatories so far.
Founding member Dave Sweeney outlined to Farrago two strategies that contributed to ICAN’s–and the TPNW’s–success. First, following the lead of successful treaties banning chemical weapons and cluster munition, ICAN proposed an international legal framework to push the abolition of nuclear weapons. Then, the organisation
‘although the Pacific nuclear testing era may be history, nuclear issues have not gone away.’
Today, the threat of rising sea levels has seen renewed debate around the agenda of climate change activism. In the Pacific, the ecological challenge of climate change also translates into a fight for culture, land and rights. Recently, a landmark ruling from the International Court of Justice advised that states have a legal obligation to act on climate change. Law students in Vanuatu began the case as a classroom exercise.
As Maclellan points out, although the Pacific nuclear testing era may be history, nuclear issues have not gone away. Campaigns continue both locally and globally to address the challenges of nuclear technologies and their legacies.
In 2007, the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons (ICAN) was founded in Melbourne. Its central aim is the adoption of the Treaty for the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons (TPNW) which proposes a blanket ban on nuclear
spent 10 years building global support for the idea before putting the Treaty into writing.
The uptake of the TPNW reflects international frustration with the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) which has largely determined international nuclear relations since it came into force in 1970. Non-nuclear state signatories have stood by their commitment to non-proliferation, but the five nuclear-weapons states under the Treaty have failed to disarm. Sweeney says the TPNW gives a voice to nonnuclear states who have felt powerless in nuclear disarmament negotiations.
Notably, Australia has neither signed nor ratified the Treaty, although the
Honeymoon uranium mine rally, May 1982, union banner, John B Elli Archives
Honeymoon uranium mine rally, May 1982, union banner, John B. Ellis, University of Melbourne Archives.
Albanese government softened Australia’s Abbott-era ‘No’ position to abstention and sent an observer to the 2023 Meeting of State Parties.
ICAN Ambassador Karina Lester, a Yankunytjatjara-Anangu woman, is the daughter of nuclear testing survivor Yami Lester, who was blinded during childhood
by British nuclear tests at Emu Plains in South Australia in the 1950s. In her statement to the UN TPNW Conference, Lester gave her support to a paragraph recognising ‘the disproportionate impact of nuclear tests on Indigenous peoples around the world’ and emphasised that the legacies of testing would be felt across
‘unknown generations to come’. Memory of the harm caused by nuclear weapons is crucial to ICAN’s campaign, but honouring the past is not static. It is a continuum, says Sweeney: we look ‘back so that it helps us chart a path to a safer future’.
Inside Crossways: The Monks Running the Local Vegetarian Restaurant
Felix O’Kane
Walking down Swanson Street on a chilly, sunny Friday in August, I’m greeted by a hum of rhythmic music, oft-repeating the key phrase: ‘Hare Krishna, Hare Hare.’ Crossways has been a staple of Swanston for decades. It is a volunteeroperated vegetarian restaurant associated with the Hare Krishna movement. The International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON) is a branch of Hinduism which emphasises meditation, mantric chanting and worship of Krishna as a supreme deity.
‘In a growing economy like Melbourne, prices are constantly increasing, Crossways is like that safe haven for everyone’
I sat down with Crossways volunteers Zack and Rasikendra das and restaurant manager Vira to talk about the spiritual life and goings-on of the humble vegetarian venue.
Rasikendra das, an ordained monk of four years, describes his experience with Crossways as ‘very empowering.’ ‘It’s really nice seeing how wholesome vegetarian food can really warm the hearts of so many of our people in our community.’ He notes that the food is ‘fantastic’. ‘I was much skinnier before I joined
Crossways.’
One major attraction to the venue is the price: $10 for a meal, drink and dessert, which he explains is a result of the restaurant’s volunteer operation. ‘In a growing economy like Melbourne, prices are constantly increasing, Crossways is like that safe haven for everyone,’ he says, ‘providing very nourishing, healthy, organic meals for everyone.’ The preparation of the food served at Crossways is a part of the monks’ spiritual practice, cooked fresh twice a day at the temple as an offering to Krishna and the community.
Zack, a fellow monk and roommate of Rasikendra, told me a little about the spiritual journey which led him to the Hare Krishna movement. ‘I actually came into contact with a book called the Bhagavad Gita, it’s a 5000 year old book … It talks about philosophy from Ancient India, about spirituality, just about life, about the universe. It’s really fascinating … It came at a perfect time in my life, and I got super interested in really studying it deeply and understanding it.’
‘I got invited by someone to come to the temple in Albert Park and I just started studying that book with the monks there … I finished my studies at RMIT and I had a bit of a window of opportunity to try living as a monk for a few months. I tried it out and I really liked it, so I’ve been continuing it ever since. It’s been four years now.’
I asked him what his parents’ reaction was to his joining the temple, and he laughed, replying that they are ‘thankfully
pretty open-minded. ‘My Mum was a bit shocked because she didn’t know what it meant, so she was a bit worried. My Dad, straight away he said “if that’s what will make you happy then I will support you.” Now that they know what I’m actually doing, that it’s something really positive … They’re really supportive.’
Restaurant manager Vira initially became involved with Crossways as a monk in 2015, and though now a family man, has returned in the last three years as a volunteer. He tells me ‘when the stomach is happy, the person is happy–that’s what we’re trying to do with this restaurant. We serve almost 500 people a day here. Whatever profit is [collected goes] into our temple and different community centres to serve free food there. We want to spread happiness, that is our main principle’.
Photography by Felix O’Kane
Hong Kong’s Mental Health Crisis: Democracy Declines as Suicides Soar
Farrago Reporter
Content Warning: discussions of mental health and suicide
‘Our freedom of speech, freedom to protest--all of that has been taken away ... We have something called “fake democracy”’
Five years ago, Amnesty International predicted that Hong Kong’s National Security Law (NSL) would transform the city into a police state. These predictions have since been proven correct–on 29 June, Hong Kong’s last remaining democratic party, the League of Social Democrats (LSD), disbanded due to ‘political pressures’, further discouraging the city’s hope for a democratic future.
For former University of Melbourne student Nial, the possibility of peace and democracy was already lost a long time ago. ‘That hope has long gone. That hope has been gone probably since five years ago when the protest started … [Hong Kong has] changed completely … I don’t recognise it now,’ he says.
‘Immense Political Pressures’
Founded in 2006, the LSD was known for its democratic reform advocacy and preserving the grassroots of Hong
Kong’s distinct culture. The party was previously represented in the Legislative Council and District Councils before Beijing overhauled the city’s former polling system and replaced it with the ‘patriots law’ in 2021. Beijing’s ‘patriots law’ was designed to ‘weed out nonpatriots’, ensuring that only those who are loyal to the Community Party of China’s regime can serve as lawmakers or local councillors. Various political parties and civil society groups, alongside the LSD, have since terminated.
Chan Po-ying, the LSD’s former chairwoman, revealed in a statement that the party disbanded due to ‘immense political pressures’, including the imprisonment of nearly all members and internal disputes. Po-Ying stated that the party felt they had been left with no choice but to prioritise the party members’ safety.
People in Hong Kong are safe as long as they refrain from discussing sensitive topics, Nial says. ‘That’s what the government wants you to do. They just want you to be sheep. They all need [you] to be ignorant and happy and just spend your money and have a good time.’
For young Hong Kongers like Nial, the group’s disbandment was expected. ‘The last democratic party of Hong Kong had to disband. And honestly, I didn’t think anything of it. It was something that was inevitable.’
For the majority of Hong Kong’s NSL crackdown, Nial was studying overseas in Australia and regrets not being more active in public commemorations before they were banned, like the 4 June Tiananmen Square Massacre anniversary. ‘Those have been happening before I was born, and so I thought they’d always be there … and I guess even that’s gone now.’
Now, like most other Hong Kongers, Nial feels as if he has no other choice but to tolerate the situation, losing faith in the trustworthiness and reliability of news sources. ‘I don’t go out of my way to find out anything about the news, because there is not much point. It’s just going to be the same stuff. We have no more right to fight for anything. Our freedom of speech, freedom of news, freedom of gatherings, freedom to protest–all that has been taken away … We have something called “fake democracy”, where the government tries to offer a choice, but it isn’t actually a choice.’
Mental health declines in young Hong Kongers
A survey from Baptist Oi Kwan Social Service, a non-government organisation, found that one in four Hong Kong secondary school students suffered from
moderate to severe depression. Nial says that the increased suppression of Hong Kong has made him feel depressed at times. ‘The only thing I did was just try to seek comfort in like-minded people [who] understand my cause and understand what’s going on in Hong Kong. But … it is a bit hard to find mainstream help … Once you voice where your concern is coming from, the government isn’t going to help you.’
Statistics from the South China Morning Post reveal that the suicide rate in Hong Kong, particularly among men, has increased significantly over the past decade. In 2023, the suicide rate among young adults reached a 10-year high, with reportedly fewer than 1 in 10 young adults seeking help.
Nial suggests that the authorities were involved in the suicides of young dissidents. Regardless of whether this claim is true or false, he describes the dispiriting effect this idea has had on other young citizens like himself. ‘I think that was when democracy died. How are you going to fight for democracy when you’re going up against something like that? I guess that’s where everybody lost hope.’
A City That Will Never Be the Same Again
In July 2025, the Hong Kong police announced new bounties for Australian pro-democracy activists accused of committing national security offences.
In response, Australian Foreign Affairs Minister Penny Wong opposed this
imposition. ‘Australia strongly objects to Hong Kong authorities issuing arrest warrants for pro-democracy advocates in Australia,’ Wong posted.
The courage of groups like the LSD has left a lasting impact not only on Hong Kongers but also on those outside of the city.
Asked if anybody in Hong Kong is still hopeful, Nial is strongly pessimistic but made a case for activists internationally: ‘I can tell you for sure that no one is hopeful … But there are still a lot of people fighting overseas … They can probably never come back to Hong Kong and never see their families again. But they are still fighting overseas.’
How to be an Informed Voter in the Digital Age
Sybilla George
Though the corflute sign springs up every election season, other analogue campaign strategies such as the mailed pamphlet are well and truly dead.
While some candidates flew and others floundered in the social media memecum-marketing-fest of the 2025 federal election, non-partisan digital political tools also made the rounds on Instagram and TikTok, vying for the attention of young, disengaged voters.
What are these tools and how do they work? Are they truly non-partisan? Do they claim to be?
Build a Ballot
For the 2025 federal election, Build a Ballot was the new browser-based political tool helping voters make informed decisions at the polling booth.
One month out from election day, climate advocates Tegan Lerm and Lizzie Hedding launched Build a Ballot via their non-profit organisation Project Planet.
In their own words, the tool was for ‘your friend from run club who’ll ask “is there an election?” three days before the vote.’
Build a Ballot involved a ninepart survey in which users selected
policies to address major election issues. Unsurprisingly, five of the nine questions were cost-of-living related, covering topics from the housing crisis to healthcare affordability. Three more addressed environmental issues, while one targeted integrity and transparency in the Australian political system.
On completion of the survey, users were matched by percentage with the candidates who ran in their electorate. They then created a mock ballot on their phone in preparation for the polling booth––a far less embarrassing option than wrangling multiple how-to-vote cards along with the wingspan Senate paper on election day.
In a video authorised by Project Planet co-founder Lerm, Cheek Media’s Hannah Ferguson promoted Build a Ballot to her 184,000 Instagram followers as a gateway for conversations with friends and family about the preferential voting system.
Build a Ballot was also positively covered by Pedestrian TV, ELLE and Marie Claire.
The Daily Telegraph accused Build a Ballot and political compass tool Vote Guide of duping voters into preferencing Labor and the Greens. It claimed that Coalition policies such as the fuel excise
cut had been ‘blatantly’ left out of the survey’s policy options to trick voters into preferencing left-leaning parties.
Analysis conducted by Farrago found that 92 per cent of the policy options proposed in the Build a Ballot survey aligned with the Greens, while 46 per cent aligned with Labor and 28 per cent with the Liberals.
The skew towards the Greens and Labor may have been explained by the limited number of questions posed by the survey, which only addressed a cross section of policy areas–albeit, important ones. Cost-of-living, a major focus of the 2025 election, and climate change issues tended to favour the progressive economics and environmental focus of leftist parties.
As a Build a Ballot spokesperson noted to The Daily Telegraph, policies from across the political spectrum were excluded from the program because they were announced after the tool’s finalisation. The Coalition’s notoriously late policy announcements during the 2025 election campaign likely exacerbated its lesser representation.
Speaking to Farrago, Project Planet and Build a Ballot co-founder Hedding (UoM alum 2018) said the program ‘prioritised policies that were most likely to be
‘Project
Planet and Build
a Ballot are unabashedly climate focused. This predilection is not hidden within their tool but openly promoted.’
effective’, collaborating with non-partisan experts including economists to determine which policies would most likely offer long-term benefits. This approach unavoidably inscribed a degree of prejudgment into the tool. On the user’s end, questions were positively geared towards progressive parties and negatively towards conservative parties, creating potential for unconscious bias.
However, Project Planet and Build a Ballot are unabashedly climate focused. This predilection is not hidden within their tool but openly promoted. As well as appealing to disengaged voters, Build a Ballot aimed to put climate ‘back in the mix’ of public debate, according to Hedding. The decline of School Strike 4 Climate/ Fridays for Future has seen the youth-driven climate change battle disappear from the headlines; questions around energy policy during the 2025 election tended to focus more on costcutting measures than the environmental impact of power generation.
Rather than asking ideological questions and aligning these responses with policy behind the scenes, Build a Ballot challenged users to consider and engage with policy options directly, encouraging them to think deeply not only about issues but also solutions.
Vote Compass
Ye old and trusty, the ABC’s Vote Compass has been online since the 2013 Federal election, when onion-crunching Tony Abbott beat out a resurrected Kevin Rudd. In the 2025 federal election, Vote Compass posed 30 statements addressing issues across the political spectrum and asked users to select on a scale the extent to which they agree with each statement. There were also questions on the trustworthiness of the party leaders. Based on their inputs, users were pinpointed on a political graph relative to Labor, the Liberal-National Coalition, the Greens and One Nation.
Speaking to Farrago, University of Melbourne political science Professor Dr Aaron Martin noted that unlike their
counterparts in many Western European democracies, political parties in Australia do not produce party manifestos clearly stating policy positions. So, for Australian voters, clearing a path through verbose rhetoric to the nuts-and-bolts of policy can be a challenge. That’s where digital tools like Vote Compass intervened, allowing voters to quickly and accessibly reflect on their alignment with the political parties.
Vote Guide
Featured alongside Build a Ballot in the The Daily Telegraph’s ‘duping’ investigation, the accusations against Vote Guide were more serious than schoolyard exclusion. According to analysis by The Daily Telegraph journalists, Vote Guide aligned voters with Greens and Labor on the political compass even if they input Liberal-aligned policies.
Vote Guide’s most recent blog post claimed more than 10,500 people undertook its survey from January to April 2025, but the Vote Guide quiz is currently inaccessible as steps are being taken to improve its accuracy. The site also contained warnings that its content may have been generated with AI. Using the program ZeroGPT, that up to half of the blog post outlining its survey results may have been generated by AI.
They Vote for You
Created by the transparency and integrity organisation OpenAustralia Foundation, They Vote for You provided your Member of Parliament’s voting record. It collated data on MPs’ formal voting habits dating back to 2006 from Hansard, the transcript of all Australian parliamentary proceedings.
Users could search by ‘People’, ‘Policies’ ‘Divisions’, electorate or postcode. The gamut of available
information prior to the 2025 federal election was extensive. Yet, as the Australia Institute pointed out, comparisons of politicians’ formal voting patterns can obscure the detail of their policy positions as it excludes informal votes and instances of parties voting on behalf of individual MPs. Nonetheless, They Vote for You offered a highly valuable resource because, let’s be honest, we didn’t pour over Hansard to check how our MP voted on Tasmanian salmon farming–but it may have impacted our vote.
Being an ‘informed’ voter
We won’t judge whether it was easier during the 2025 federal election than in elections gone by to filter through the noise and nail down the best use of one’s vote. Whether the tools discussed here clarify or confuse, they certainly offered a starting point. Ultimately, it is difficult to capture the nuances of democratic elections in any algorithmic tool based on policy. Some voters vote on issues, others strategically and some by whim. After all, we don’t vote for the decisions that will be made but rather for who will make those decisions, and the decisions made
Cyrus Artlounge Under New Management, Alienating Local Artists
Wil Simmonds
Cyrus Artlounge was a beloved Lygon Street cafe-art gallery hybrid, not only known for its great service and eclectic artsy aesthetic, but for its strong support of local creatives. Under the original ownership of Cyrus himself, the venue offered a distinct space for emerging artists, writers and community-based event organisers to connect, showcase their work and grow.
However, as of mid-2025, the venue is under new management. Loyal customers have noticed significant changes that suggest a departure from the venue’s previous focus on celebrating and uplifting local art. The upstairs gallery, a space once dedicated solely to showcasing exhibitions, has now been renovated into a simple dining area. This transformation marks a shift the venue being more commercially driven, raising concerns among local creative communities about the loss of genuine support and artistic patronage.
Cyrus’ was known as more than just a local coffee shop, but a space that celebrated the arts community. What truly distinguished the establishment was Cyrus himself. He ran the business for three years and was deeply involved and personable. He created a memorable experience for everyone through his kindness, asking customers about themselves, sharing business updates and inviting them to visit the latest exhibitions. For Cyrus, his goal was to create a soulful gathering space for artists and to promote local work.
Cyrus was known to have been encouraging when it came to artists exhibiting their work, even if they felt hesitant or uncertain. For one local artist who has held multiple exhibitions with the venue, hosting their own exhibition initially seemed like an endeavour completely out of their comfort zone and would not have occurred without Cyrus’
encouragement.
Two major literary communitybuilding events at Cyrus’ were the ‘Story Soirée’ open mic nights events, held in June and August of 2024. These were co-hosted by The Provocative Inklings (PI), founded by UniMelb alumni Angus Clark and Kartiya Ilardo, and Words of a Feather (WOAF), a writing organisation founded by Amy Han. The events featured stories, poems and other written works spoken publicly through a random draw of volunteer names from a hat. This was to be a space for writers of all abilities and levels of experience, free from criticism or judgement.
To host their events, both organisations were looking for a venue that aligned with their values of supporting local creatives and artists, was easily accessible and had a cosy artsy atmosphere. After being informed of the venue by a mutual friend, Angus went into the cafe to find Cyrus himself and where he enthusiastically invited them to run an event at the venue. From Angus’ initial interaction with Cyrus, he knew the venue would become the spot.
The collaboration with Cyrus’ through these events were incredibly meaningful for these organisations. The interior itself, as an arts and literature-focused space, was an ideal atmosphere for the events.
Han recalls the staff at Cyrus’ being incredibly accommodating throughout the process. They opened later than usual for events, allowed them to book the space exclusively and provided a staff member to keep the cafe open throughout the evenings. Han’s only in-person interaction with Cyrus was during setup for one event, when he encouraged her to rearrange the furniture to her liking. ‘It’s your home. Make yourself at home!’. This deeply resonated with Han, who said that if she were to open her own studio space for WOAF again, this is exactly how she hoped people would feel when they came. He also offered to stock her book ‘The Yard Sale at Story House’ in-store, in an effort to
promote local works.
For Angus and PI, the significant growth of the organisation can be tied back to these initial events at Cyrus’ during their first year of business, which launched their reputation and launched a successful 2025. As a result, attendance for their events outgrew Cyrus’, prompting them to move to larger venues.
However, under new management, Cyrus Artlounge has undergone changes which seem to have diminished the arts appreciation previously fostered by Cyrus.
For Angus of PI, he says support can be found if you look hard enough. He emphasises the importance of building a strong portfolio and creating an online presence which showcases your work. Kartiya of PI believes that there are means for artists to create opportunities for themselves. Within the literary community, she has seen new support networks and relationships fostered through the community-building events such as the ones held at Cyrus’. From this, new creative spaces have emerged such as The Literary Lounge.
Amy Han of WOAF believes that ‘there is space and community for everyone who wants it … The hard part is finding those communities and then showing up and making genuine connections.’
For students and creatives who once frequented Cyrus’, the loss of its original spirit is felt.
For now, Cyrus says he wants to take a couple of years off for revision, study, and updating his work and knowledge before returning. He hopes to bring back the spirit of Cyrus’ Artlounge in new and exciting ways in future, such as through gallery and exhibition spaces, running fine arts workshops and teaching, and even incorporating aspects of hospitality.
Continuous tripping: the realities of Hallucinogen Persisting Perception Disorder
Finley Monaghan-Mc Grath
University of Melbourne researchers are at the global forefront of investigating Hallucinogen Persisting Perception Disorder (HPPD), a visual condition triggered by psychedelic use.
These scientists are in the preliminary stages of understanding the risk factors, causes, and potential treatments for HPPD, as much about the condition remains unknown.
With psychedelic-assisted psychotherapy (PAP) in the early stages of roll-out across Australia and internationally, these researchers are aiming to improve patient screening for HPPD.
This is especially important, as current evidence suggests individuals with existing mental health illnesses may be at greater risk of developing HPPD.
While there is strong evidence that PAP can help treat various mental health conditions, frontline researchers stress the need for stronger risk safeguards. While conditions like HPPD serve as significant risks linked to PAP, they remain under-researched and misunderstood
What is HPPD?
According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, HPPD manifests in two ways: the first involves short episodes of psychedelic-like visual phenomena known colloquially as ‘flashbacks,’ while the second is characterised by persistent, daily visual disturbances.
People with HPPD may experience visual snow, after-images, trails, geometric patterns, light sensitivity, and other visuals shaped by past psychedelic experiences.
To be clinically diagnosed with HPPD, these perception disturbances must be distressing and impairing to daily life. Although not all individuals find these perception changes particularly troubling, those who do often report experiencing anxiety, panic attacks, depression, and suicidal thoughts.
Frequently, patients report a strong degree of isolation and loneliness, as if they’ve become stuck in a dream-like world that non-sufferers can’t relate to.
Rare globally, higher risk among PAP patients
Though HPPD is rare, affecting about 1% of global psychedelic users, Dr Jacob
Designed by LF
Paul, a cognitive neuroscientist at the University of Melbourne, told Farrago that those seeking PAP may face higher risk.
“Global prevalence is maybe not the most important thing here. And that's some of the things we're sort of nailing down… is that it's highly comorbid with these other mental health [issues].”
“By definition, seeking out PAP to remediate anxiety, depression or PTSD, all are things that you might want to look at [for screening].They're already in the category of people who have a higher prevalence within those groups.”
Dr Paul further highlighted that it isn’t uncommon for people with some form of a pre-disposition to HPPD to enrol into a psychedelic assisted therapy trial.
“There's been definitely examples of people who have gotten HPPD or HPPDlike symptoms from very early psych trials, which have been screened for literally everything else.”
“So, does the person who signed up know that's what they're signing up for? If they're a visual artist, could that be the actual end of their ability to create their visual art?”
National rising psychedelic use raises HPPD risk
The latest National Drug Strategy Household Survey found that hallucinogen use in Australia has increased from 0.6% in 2007 to 2.4% of the population in 2022–2023 (roughly 500,000 people).
Simultaneously, the number of patients receiving MDMA and Psilocybin through authorised and specialist psychiatrists is also progressively increasingl.
Dr Paul noted that with trends like microdosing Psilocybin on the rise, HPPD’s causes need greater attention, as the condition is not linked to high-doses.
“It seems like there's just as many descriptions of HPPD occurring from one large dose… and populations who are just microdosing.”
This means that there's no concrete evidence that any particular dose is safe. As the condition can be developed after consuming such small doses of a psychedelic that there wouldn’t be any visual hallucinations during the dosing period. The risk instead seems to vary greatly on individual factors that aren’t yet fully understood.
The University of Melbourne’s current work
With funding from advocacy group Perception Restoration Foundation, University of Melbourne researchers are developing an online psycho-physics screening tool to identify visual traits that may indicate HPPD risk.
While the tool is still in development, Dr Paul highlighted that he hopes that the tool can function as an easily accessible option for individuals who are using or considering using psychedelics and for the current ongoing psychotherapy trials that don’t test for HPPD.
Dr Paul outlined their plans to start with “the broadest networking cast to be-
gin with, and then from that … get down to this very short, quick identifying screener.”
The complex realities of psychedelic assisted therapy
Farrago spoke to Sally Meikle, a PhD candidate at The University of Melbourne, about the broader implications of the growing focus on using psychedelics to treat mental health conditions.
Ms Meikle ran an open label clinical trial of psilocybin with psychotherapeutic support for treatment resistant depression with fellow researchers from Swinburne University.
The trial involved seven participants with severe cases of treatment resistant depression that had persisted over multiple decades.
“We did find a significant reduction in depression, which was great… but there was a really obvious amount of variation in how individual people responded to the treatment.”
Ms Meikle explained that while two patients successfully went into long-term remission, three initially improved but later relapsed, and the remaining two didn’t have any positive response, with one actually getting worse.
“We had one participant in particular who had a really challenging dosing experience and then went on to develop quite severe anxiety that they hadn't experienced.”
“The thing is, I think it is so overhyped that it's this idea of a magic cure now, and the reality is, the majority of people didn't find any sustained benefit from the treatment.”
Meikle warned that there are some within the medicinal psychedelic space who are pushing for its full roll-out before properly considering the potential risks.
“There's a weird sort of dichotomy in psychedelic research where a lot of
people are really hyping it up and enthusiastic and downplaying all the risks. And then there's a few people that are trying to talk about the risks, who get sort of cast as like, ‘oh, you're a naysayer and you're antidrug.’”
“I think there are really substantial risks there, like prolonged psychological sort of difficulty in whether that's anxiety or the perceptual changes. I think if it's rolled out too fast, therapists don't have enough training, people aren't educated, you're going to see a huge increase in reports of adverse events.”
While psychedelics may offer hope to those failed by traditional treatments, researchers at the University of Melbourne are working to ensure that hope doesn’t come at the expense of patient health, something that must remain central to the emerging wave of medicinal psychedelic therapy.
Wil Simmonds ‘Grace in front of a window’
David Lu ‘Coffee and Tunes’
Which Farrago Letter to the Editor are YOU?
Janice Hui
Research by Janice Hui and Thomas Weir-Alarcon
TAG YOURSELF!
Letters to the Editors have been a staple in the pages of Farrago. Through these letters, Farrago has provided a space wherein students can vent and complain about the issues that concern them—from trivial inconveniences on campus to international news headlines. The very first letter to the editors published in Farrago in 1925, for example, was one of a commerce student questioning the practical use of the lake (now replaced by the Union Lawn and Concrete Lawn) since it was ‘useless for drinking purposes’! In other instances, Letters to the Editors became a colosseum where writers publicly attacked one another. These heated arguments would often carry out throughout multiple editions as they continuously respond to each other’s grievances, trapping themselves in a messy cycle with no resolution in sight. However, a large number of letters were actually concerned with Farrago itself and the contents within, as many expressed their critiques and condemnations to the publication.
During our time of digging through the archives, we have identified a few archetypes of letter writers who frequent the pages of Farrago, and picked out a representative piece for each of them. While the publishing dates of these letters span far and wide from the 1940s to the 2000s, students’ passion and dedication to complaining (sometimes rightfully so!) remain timeless. So, this one goes out to all the whingers out there! Which Letter to the Editors are you?
#1 The one commenting on relatable and relevant issues
#2 The one who just loves complaining about everything and nothing
#4 ????
#5 Alvin ←
To Create Dangerously: Radical Art and Kneecap’s Pro-Palestine Activism
Radical art, its censorship and global anti-colonial solidarity which has emerged during the genocide in Gaza.
Astara Ball
Content Warning: discussions of racism, death and genocide
If art can court controversy … that’s a good thing because that is the role of art in society. - Kneecap
WhenI was travelling in Prague over the summer, I picked up a fascinating book by Albert Camus, titled Create Dangerously. I gulped it down over that day and the next morning, sipping it by the river and on a bus ride. The titular essay captured so much about the power of radical art in current times and the importance of thAe artist in wielding it. It spoke of the value of risk-taking, and the artist’s responsibility to write and create for those around them. Art is not art without an audience, or without a powerful message.
‘Art is not art without an audience, or without a powerful message.’
I instantly, and rather tentatively, since both were swirling in my mind, connected Camus’ writing to the aggressive smothering of many artists speaking out about Palestine—in particular, Irish hiphop trio Kneecap. The group was recently condemned by the British government and media for radical activism during concerts and major music festivals such as Coachella and Glastonbury. Long term supporters of the Free Palestine movement, Kneecap’s performances, music and recent film express their own rage against (British) imperialism inside and beyond Ireland. Through embodying exaggerated rap personas, they satirise
their lives in their performances, referring to themselves as ‘Fenian cunts’ and ‘Republican hoods’ to express resistance. Growing up during the Troubles in West Belfast, anti-colonialism and antisectarianism is in their bones. Kneecap’s solidarity with Palestine is deeply personal and is reflected in their art.
Despite media backlash and attempts to silence them by British and US governing bodies, this stance has garnered them much international support. Locally, Kneecap collaborated with Gumbaynggirr artist Aretha Brown, who created the artwork ‘BLAK + IRISH’. In a statement on her website, Brown writes that the piece ‘reflects the struggles, triumphs, and solidarity of Aboriginal and Irish Communities in Australia’, combining anti-colonial messages and spotlighting Brown’s message of Indigenous defiance in her art. Her project ‘Kiss My Art’ is another example of her radical approach: a collective of mural painters who refuse the imperialist traditional gallery space by creating public works. The crew intends to empower Blak women and nonbinary artists, celebrating the resilience of Aboriginal cultures and confronting
‘The University of Melbourne has become the first in Australia to expel two students for pro-Palestine activism’
colonial legacies.
Resistance of colonial institutions continues to occur across Australia. The University of Melbourne has become the first in Australia to expel two students for pro-Palestine activism after taking part in
‘This supposed sanctuary for fostering intellectual and revolutionary artistic expression is condemning students for expressing their views.’
a sit-in inside Professor Steven Prawer’s office in October last year. Activists have repeatedly called for the University to cut ties with weapons manufacturers and dissociate with Israeli universities, who occupy stolen Palestinian land and have ties to the Israel Defence Forces (IDF). In 2024, students participating in a 10-day sit-in at Arts West/Mahmoud’s Hall were also threatened with suspension and expulsion, but only received warnings. The police were called to interfere in both of these demonstrations.
This shift in the way the University handles political activism and freedom of speech is akin to the legal sanctions experienced by Kneecap and other performing artists such as Bob Vylan. Bob Vylan, a London-based punk-rap duo, had their US visas revoked earlier this year for leading an anti-IDF chant at Coachella. Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh (‘Mo Chara’ of Kneecap) faced terrorist offence charges by the British Government for allegedly showing support for Hezbollah after he displayed their flag at a concert, discrediting his activism by decontextualising satire. This came alongside the Australian government’s recent implementation of harsh antiprotest rules and the University of
‘Kneecap is seeking to shift the conversation surrounding their activism to real support and action’
Melbourne’s stifling of student activism. This supposed sanctuary for fostering intellectual and revolutionary artistic expression is condemning students for expressing their views.
The devastation of Palestine is collapsing our faith in international systems of justice. Bodies like the UN, once believed to be the benchmark of the liberation of suffering peoples, clearly have no real ability to emancipate at all. The liberal world has not halted the escalation of genocide and has spent years refusing to condemn Israel for their war crimes. It has watched on and even supplied material support through weapons deals. Institutions like the University of Melbourne have aggressively suppressed those who speak out. As art sits in this unique liminal space between speaking and action, it has the power to be more than just words and symbols. Yet when the artists speaking out are censored, how can those watching from afar feel able to take any action at all?
A recent open letter in Australia has shone light on the role of the artist in calling for change. ‘For Gaza. From Here’ contains the signatures of over 1,500 artists, writers, directors, musicians, performers and members of the general public including 150 recognisable faces from the arts industry. It calls for the Albanese Government to take ‘urgent and concrete action to help end the unfolding catastrophe in Gaza’ and expresses that as ‘artists living and working on stolen land, we recognise the profound connection between colonisation, resistance and survival’. The letter expresses responsibility and solidarity for Palestinian resistance as well as the continued activism of First Nations people fighting for justice and freedom on their own land. Similarly, Massive Attack’s UK collective project was established to show solidarity for victims of a real-time ‘screengenocide’ and to allow artists to use their platforms to express their outrage. Concentrated in the UK and Ireland, the project intends to destabilise the level of
censorship within the industry and from external legal bodies so that there can be a focus on ceasefire and immediate action from the British Government.
Kneecap’s new short film See it. Say it. Censored., a play on the British transport police slogan; ‘See it. Say it. Sorted.’ is another artist-led project for affirmative action. The production illuminates the testimonials of front-line aid supporters and Palestinian doctors who share their experiences of being on the ground in Gaza. Produced by the group and not featuring them, the film also reminds us that ‘Kneecap is not the story. Genocide is’. Alongside other artists such as Fontaines D.C. and Amyl and the Sniffers, Kneecap is seeking to shift the conversation surrounding their activism to real support and action, including raising funds for
medical aid and continually informing and invigorating global discourse.
Oscar Wilde, the son of fiery Irish activist and writer Lady Jane Wilde, writes that ‘all art is quite useless’. It’s not the artwork itself that has any material value or tangible purpose, it’s the action whirling around it. As Camus claims, ‘Art cannot be a monologue’. Moving past the urge to take creative risk, we can learn from creatives like Kneecap that endangering ourselves as artists is necessary when demanding change. Art’s real value and purpose is the people it reflects, the people it speaks for, and the worlds it creates outside of our physical. Art is global, local and the most powerful for its material ‘uselessness’. We are learning many lessons from our history. Many of you are artists. I am an artist. And our art is dangerous. Aretha Brown and Kneecap alongside ‘BLAK + IRISH’. Source: https://www.are
thabrown.au/
Learning Yearning: Why Does University Feel so Nostalgic?
Alumni fondly recall their university days while current student anticipate an eventual longing for the present moment. While nostalgia is bittersweet, memory and history are tools with which the nation manufactures its authority and power.
Saria Ratnam
‘Mymum won’t stop talking about South Lawn. She says the best days of her life were spent on South Lawn. I don’t know why she’s so obsessed with it,’ says one of my friends, who jokingly whines about her mum’s South Lawn obsession almost as much as her mum obsesses over South Lawn. Her obsession isn’t surprising, though. All of the older people in my life–parents, high school teachers, aunts and uncles–seem particularly attached to their university days.
In trying to find a reason for this, I stumbled upon a psychosocial phenomenon known as the ‘reminiscence bump’. This theory of memory argues that most people remember significantly more from their second and third decades of life than any other stage. The reasons provided for this phenomenon by two recent researchers, Judith Glück and Susan Bluck, are that ‘events in the reminiscence bump are characterized not only by positive valence, but also by high perceived control and high perceived influence on later development.’ The events that people remember from their teens and twenties are often the ones they felt that they had control over, that had a significant impact on their later life, and/or that they see in a positive light.
In my experience, university memories often align quite closely with these three characteristics. I definitely feel a greater sense of control over how I choose to live my life–what subjects I’ll study each semester, what days and hours I’ll be on campus, who I’ll hang out with–than I did in my school days. It does feel like this period of my life will have a greater impact on my future than any
earlier or later stage–unlike VCE, what I specifically choose to study now will probably determine which career I go into. University has been the source of some of my first ‘adult’ friendships and my first relationship—it certainly seems like I’ll spend the rest of my life with at least some of the people I’m surrounding myself with now. And, whilst this certainly isn’t a universal experience, I view my first semester in an almost entirely positive light—the ratio of happiness to stress is a kind of inversion of what Year 12 was.
So this might explain why I’ve encountered so many adults who look back on their university days with such fondness and nostalgia. The ages that we live through at university, and the kinds of experiences we have there, are particularly conducive to the formation of long-term memories.
However, what this doesn’t account for is a sensation I often feel as I wander around campus, that some of my friends note too–a kind of ‘pre-nostalgia.’ A sense of wistfulness and bittersweetness that relates to the present we’re still living in.
I discuss this with my friend Abi, a fellow first-year Arts student, who relates a few reasons for the sensation of nostalgia she feels when she’s on campus.
‘Melbourne is such an old institution and being around all the old buildings,
feeling like you’re a segment in this very long history, that drives me to romanticise that past aspect of the university.’
‘I also think we’re made to feel nostalgia towards our university experience because I think as you’re growing up you hear a lot of people older than you talking about their university days … and I think that’s with a lot of people’s parents as well as pop culture, movies, TV show, books set in colleges, even this whole Dark Academia aesthetic that’s come out, it all drives us to start looking back while we’re in it, like we’re monitoring our experiences to see if they fit that aesthetic mould that we’re made to understand universities through.’
What interests me about Abi’s explanations is that they all link back to processes of romanticisation and idealisation, relating to the university itself rather than the student’s own life.
Many of the students I talk to describe the University of Melbourne as ‘historic,’ often linking this perception to its sandstone architecture and the fact that it’s presumed to be pretty old.
But the university’s age and architecture, and the way they intersect with Australian history, is more complex than the prevailing conception of them as ‘old.’ Unlike many European sandstone universities, Melbourne’s architecture,
‘The transplanting of European history into Australia’s early colonial universities wasn’t just an architectural choice–it was a deliberate act of rewriting history, pretending that there had been a European presence for longer than there really had been.’
particularly its first building, the Quadrangle, is neo-gothic rather than gothic. It is also an imitation, modelled on St David’s College in Wales and Queen’s College, Ireland. And it’s only 170 years old. Oxford University, for some context, has evidence of teaching dating back over 1,000 years. First Nations people have lived in Australia for over 65,000 years. In the context of both universities and Australian history, Melbourne is relatively new, calling into question the accuracy of viewing it as an old institution, and romanticising it as such.
Dark Academia has faced similar criticisms of inauthenticity. By virtue of it being an internet aesthetic, it is predicated on curation–a highly selective focus on the aspects of the university experience that fit a classical and traditional campus experience.
At one Farrago meeting, as we discuss Dark Academia and sandstone universities, the more senior nonfiction writers are quick to mention Robin Waldun, a highly successful Dark Academia influencer who once attended the University of Melbourne. They note that his posts prominently feature buildings such as the Quadrangle and Old Arts, ignoring the university’s newer buildings (which cover a significant proportion of the campus.) In this way, his aesthetic relies on promoting an arguably
In these ways, the Dark Academia aesthetic and the perception of the University as historical appear to be somewhat manufactured, and inauthentic. If these are the main sources of that nostalgic feeling felt by many students I talked to, does that make the feeling itself problematic?
Perhaps. I don’t know if there’s anything inherently wrong with feeling a sense of nostalgia for a false past–I suppose the question is why that false past has been created, and what its present implications are. The transplanting of European history into Australia’s early colonial universities wasn’t just an architectural choice–it was a deliberate act of rewriting history, pretending that there had been a European presence for longer than there really had been. Australian academic John Gascoigne has noted this phenomenon of what is effectively architectural propaganda, positing that ‘the architecture and academic rituals of the newly-founded university were meant to create a sense of the antiquity of the university as an institution … symptomatic of the university’s cultural aspirations to a civilising role.’ In this way, the imbuing of colonial universities with a sense of gravitas and authority, through their building designs, functioned as a denial of both the architectural and educational
practices of First Nations peoples. Importantly, by romanticising this architecture and this history of colonial education, we’re unconsciously reinforcing the narrative that European history is more ‘romantic’ and more significant than Aboriginal history.
But I don’t think that these feelings of ‘pre-nostalgia’ evoked by being at the University of Melbourne necessarily need to be tied back to these implications. Talking to different students about the way they feel when they’re at university, I’ve observed two distinct types of nostalgia.
One is the nostalgia that is linked to romanticisation. It’s impersonal, connected to the university itself, as an artifact of shared cultural memory rather than a locus of personal experience. This aligns with Abi’s experiences–a sense of nostalgia for a version of university that has been constructed through popular culture, others’ stories and our sociallyconditioned expectations of the university experience. That’s the type I think is worth being aware of, because it can be wrapped up in dominant societal narratives and falsified versions of the past, and that we therefore need to be conscious of reinforcing.
The other is nostalgia linked to appreciation, rather than romanticisation, and it’s far more personal. It stems from the individual’s perception of the significance that their own university experiences will have on their life.
This is the kind of nostalgia I get a sense of throughout a conversation with my boyfriend Fin, another firstyear Arts student. He describes feeling a sense of nostalgia that relates to a ‘relief and excitement of breaking free from the constraints of childhood,’ combined with an awareness that ‘eventually you fall into the rhythm of adulthood’s
‘uni feels like it might be the only time when I can choose to put life first, and practicalities second.’
false image of himself and the University.
own constraints.’ University feels like ‘a direction you take,’ whereas the stages before and after it ‘feel like being pulled along life.’ It’s the sense of autonomy and freedom, and the knowledge that we might never experience these in the same way, that drives this sense of nostalgia.
I think that an awareness of the liminality of this stage of life is one of the main reasons I feel so nostalgic when I wander around campus. I know that there won’t be another time when I’ll just be able to study things I love, regardless of whether they have any relevance to my future occupation or the outside world. And I won’t be able to while away hours on South Lawn, reading or chatting to friends even when I have work to do. Because uni feels like it might be the only time when I can choose to put life first, and practicalities second.
The past few days, as the weather has
begun to warm up again, something about the sunniness and slowness of campus life has reminded me of the last few weeks of Term 4 during primary school–when you stopped learning things, and decorated Christmas cards or played on the oval instead. That’s one of the last times that my life felt this carefree, and as replete with possibility, I suppose. So perhaps part of the nostalgia I’m feeling right now is that university kind of embodies some of the best parts of my childhood, whilst making them part of my present. I’m not sure.
Nostalgia is a slippery thing. The specific forms of nostalgia that relate to university are varied and complex in themselves. There’s the type that I’ve observed older people feeling towards their days at university, which stems from a natural yearning for the past. There’s the type that present students feel towards the
Sympathy for the Devil?
university because we’re conditioned to romanticise it. And there’s the type that I feel because I’m aware of the transience of this stage while I’m still in it.
As long as we’re conscious of this second type–the fact that its origins aren’t in personal memory, but constructed versions of history and academia–nostalgia strikes me as a really beautiful thing. It’s more tender, bittersweet, than joy–but more nuanced and precious as a result. In my mind it feels warm and sepiatoned.
But I still don’t really understand it. Maybe it’s worth returning to where it all started. The word nostalgia comes from the Greek words nostos and algos; homecoming and pain. A morbid longing for one’s native land.
Perhaps university makes us feel like we’re returning home.
By characterising them as human, media depicting facist leaders can undermine their propogandised personas while highlighting the public’s mundane suspectibility to despotism.
Jesse Allen
Joe
Wright’s 8-part series Mussolini: Son of the Century manages many impressive feats. Based on the first book in Antonio Scurati’s M tetralogy, it imbues a story that played out almost a century ago with immediacy. It charts the meteoric rise of Italian fascism in the early 1920s, hinting at its cataclysmic demise two decades later. As political violence ascends and democratic institutions wither away, the show’s unflinching examination of Mussolini in all his contradictory humanity is a constant. Even for those well-acquainted with the life and times of the duce, this particular aspect of Son of the Century is guaranteed to engross and unnerve in equal measure.
Producing a despot biopic is a perilous venture. Downfall (2004), depicting the last days of the Nazi regime, sparked controversy for humanising the perpetrators of heinous crimes against
‘to portray dictators like Hitler or Mussolini as anything other than fully human is to buy into their mythologies’
humanity. Yet, to portray dictators like Hitler or Mussolini as anything other than fully human is to buy into their mythologies. Luca Marinelli’s performance as Mussolini in Son of the Century is immense and repugnant. The Guardian’s Philip Oltermann describes him as radiating a ‘diabolical charm’ which dares us to sympathise with the first fascist. Frequent, fourth-wall-breaking asides draw us into the narrative. ‘Follow me. You’ll love me too,’ Marinelli taunts us in one scene. But we never lose sight of the fact that–beneath the braggadocio and the delusions of grandeur–this self-styled
‘new man’ is chronically insecure and shamelessly unscrupulous. There is not a single person or ideal he is not willing to betray in the pursuit of power.
In sharp contrast, socialist politician Giacomo Matteotti emerges as the closest thing to a ‘hero’ in the latter half of the series. Even as the fascists tighten their grip on power, he remains an increasingly isolated voice in the wilderness –denouncing the black shirts’ use of violence and the fraudulent outcome of the 1924 general election. Ultimately, Matteotti paid for this outspoken criticism with his life, and it was his assassination for which Mussolini claimed responsibility in his now infamous speech before the Chamber of Deputies on 3 January 1925. This moment, which serves as the series’ breathless crescendo, is considered a watershed by many historians. With Matteotti out of the picture, none remained who were prepared to resist the
The series thereby dispels another of fascism’s
favourite fantasies: the idea that its ascendancy was preordained.
fascist onslaught. Yet, Mussolini’s ‘triumph’ was only enabled by the misjudgements of a sympathetic political establishment and the impotence of a cowed opposition; it was no unstoppable march to power, despite the claims of the regime’s hagiographers.
The series thereby dispels another of fascism’s favourite fantasies: the idea that its ascendancy was preordained. Mussolini’s movement exploited Italian fears and resentments–not least, memories of a ‘mutilated victory’ in WWI, and widespread fears of a Bolshevik-style revolution [not limited to Italy]. But the National Fascist Party was not handed absolute power by a grateful nation; they instead seized it through the barbaric use of force. Eminent historian of modern Italy John Foot praised Son of the Century for placing ‘the violence of fascism at the centre of the story,’ while also noting that occasional swerves into ‘comedy and farce’ might be off-putting for some viewers. This seems to be part of a deliberate strategy: the use of pulsing techno music, strobe lighting and disorienting cuts throughout the series intentionally unsettle the viewer and blur the boundaries between the historical and the contemporary. Son of the Century may be a period piece, but its concerns are all too modern.
Wright has said that he wants audiences to be ‘seduced’ by Mussolini. In a complex and chaotic world, there will always be the temptation to submit to the simple answers offered by the ‘strongman’ leader. This echoes Scurati’s reflections on the lessons of the fascist ventennio: ‘All of us were seduced. We have to feel accountable for that chapter in our history.’ Each new moment of grotesque cruelty punctuating the narrative offers a glimpse into the noxious reality behind the shining façade. Not everyone is convinced by the merits of this particular brand of provocation, however. Professor Ruth Ben-Ghiat sees the methodology of inoculation through immersion as ‘paradoxical,’ concerned that the message could be lost in the medium. Still, it’s hard to imagine any viewers leaving with the impression that they should join in cheering for the Duce
The goal of the series is neither to venerate Mussolini, nor to vilify him–as Wright has said, the latter only absolves the modern audience of its moral responsibility–but to alert audiences to the cost of inaction and resignation in the face of political violence. The ‘ultimate finger of blame,’ to quote Professor Foot once again, is pointed squarely at ‘those who enabled Mussolini’s rise.’ Those who did nothing were just as complicit
Sayang is a Verb but
Sayang is also a cat
Jayden Alexander
Sayang in the Malay language, when used as a noun, can be a term of endearment—similar to ‘darling’. But as a verb, sayang carries with it the duality of both love and sorrow. To sayang something is to love it; and when it’s gone, to sayang is to regret its departure. How can the word for love also mean to feel guilty for not loving enough? Perhaps we can’t ever
love enough. After all, love wasn’t enough to bring a dead cat back to life.
Sayang was a black stray cat who lived at my school. Every morning as the blue sky crept across the horizon, I’d walk onto campus and, lounging somewhere by the stairs, would be Sayang. He had a small tear on his ear which was how I identified him from the other black cats on campus. He was also the only cat who would
in the crimes of fascism as the most loyal squadristi, and all of them were people just like us. Mussolini’s regime nominally aspired to the love of those it ruled, even if it often relied on fear in practice. But a dictator does not need to elicit our sympathy; it is enough to secure our indifference. That is why–whatever the perils and potential controversies involved in creating media such as Son of the Century–it serves a vitally necessary purpose. It reminds us of what Lorenzo Fabbri calls the ‘fascism in all of us’–as uncomfortable as this might be, the greater danger lies in looking away.
happily welcome pats and rubs from any stranger. The other cats were named Ondeh Ondeh, Baobei, and Sotong.
It was always a delight to spot the cats roaming about. Often, it would be Sayang, and I would give him a few pats before heading off to class. On some evenings, after a gruelling day of studying, I’d squat beside him to feed him dinner, watching as he gobbled up the tiny pellets–I couldn’t
‘You can sayang a cat and it will sayang you in return.’
imagine it would taste good, but he seemed to like it enough. More than the food though, Sayang loved treats. The type of treats that came in tube-like packaging which would be fed to him as he licked away at the plastic.
Sayang to me is an action —the image brought up in my mind is that of stroking a cat. For a word meaning so much, it also means to soothe or the action of soothing someone. It is the pats on a baby’s back, lulling them to sleep. Or the hushing of a child’s cries when they’ve fallen over. It is the love a parent has for their child, the love a caretaker has for a cat. You can sayang a cat and it will sayang you in return.
Sayang and Baobei were often caught in tussles, screaming matches or heavy side-eye showdowns from across the pavement. Ondeh Ondeh would sleep on chairs, behind tables, tucked away from view but every so often, they’d make an appearance.
Before I graduated, I remember patting Sayang every day of my exams for good luck, often arriving way before the crowd to see swarms of students doing
the same. On the days that he wasn’t present, I wondered what adventures he was on, what parts of the campus he had discovered which none of us would ever know about. He eventually became incredibly comfortable with humans, rubbing his head onto hands or legs as a request for pats, which of course, were never denied.
After my graduation, I would periodically get updates about the cats on Instagram. At times, it would be memes of the cats, other times it would be shoddy videos attempting to capture them before they disappeared into the shadows. The account has since been archived, since the college was demolished last year, and most of the cats were rehomed. All except for one.
Sometime in early February 2023, a story was uploaded, announcing the unfortunate passing of Ondeh Ondeh from a lung infection. Although I hadn’t spent time with the cats in a while, I could tell how much this loss meant to the admins of the account—one of whom was a dear friend of mine. It was a fairly sudden affair; the vet visits, medical updates, the announcement of Ondeh Ondeh’s departure.
Following this announcement, a temporary memorial was made for Ondeh Ondeh. Flowers and notes were left on
The Boys: Diabolical Satire
the table she frequented. Ondeh Ondeh’s goodbye, now archived on Instagram, includes the last heartfelt statements from the account’s admins: ‘All I have of her is a box of ash, some fur and memories. But I’ll cherish them forever.’ ‘One day I will see you again. But until then I’ll think of you every time the moon shines brightly and every time I pet a cat that’s too skinny.’
The companionship of a friend, whose journey first started as a stranger, tamed with patience and love and time. As Antoine de Saint-Exupery writes in The Little Prince, ‘To become spring means accepting the risk of winter’. To sayang in the present tense is to love something, and thus when it’s gone, and the love has soured into grief, to sayang is to have cherished.
When capitalist establishments cannibalise their own critiques, satire risks devolving into that which it condemns--explored through Amazon Prime’s popular series The Boys.
Content Warning: discussions of sexual assault, graphic descriptions of sex and gore
In a world where superheroes are powertripping celebrities whose narcissism and recklessness destroy the lives of innocent civilians, CIA black-ops group the Boys use any method deemed necessary to keep ‘supes’ from falling out of line.
Since its premiere on Amazon Prime in 2019, The Boys has become notorious for its willingness to shock and surprise. The show has been a huge hit with fans and critics. Showrunner Eric Kripke says, The Boys is ‘the intersection of celebrity and authoritarianism and how social media and entertainment are used to sell fascism.’ But the most intriguing part of the show isn’t the third season’s giant practical penis set designed to be shot from the inside, but its place as a critique of contemporary culture.
Before the TV show, there was the original comic run. Born from writer Garth Ennis and artist Darick Robertson, The Boys set out to lampoon American comic books, particularly superhero stories. Ennis was previously a writer for Marvel Comics’ The Punisher and DC comics imprint Vertigo’s Preacher. Robertson’s major work before The Boys was a series called Transmetropolitan, and he also had experience working for both Marvel
Photography by Jayden Alexander
‘Capitalism has the unique ability to take criticism of itself and turn it into yet another money-making opportunity.’
and DC. The Boys ran from 2006 to 2012, and the imagination need not stretch to see where the television series gets its gruesome and darkly funny spirit from. Superheroes from both Marvel and DC are turned into the worst representations of humanity that Ennis and Robertson can put to paper.
Ultimately, after many years of failed adaptations, Amazon Studios picked up the series in September of 2017 with Kripke as showrunner. One massive way the show deviates from the comic is the change of antagonist. In the comic’s final issue, sole surviving member of the Boys ‘Wee’ Hughie Campbell, remarks that they ‘should’ve gone straight at the fuckin’ corporation in the first place, instead o’ wastin’ our time on the dickheads in tights’. It’s an expression of regret that manifested itself when Ennis and Robertson’s caped crusaders finally made their way to the small screen.
At first glance, the change of tactic to eliminate the root cause of the problem makes sense. Social and political critique is in. Where superhero movies are cultural touchstones and the world’s political situation grows ever more precarious, the well of things to make fun of for Kripke and the other writers appears bottomless. For four seasons (going on a fifth), Kripke and the other writers have developed a clear storytelling philosophy: the series is as subtle as a shotgun to the face. Inferior media taps you on the shoulder and whispers in your ear, The Boys rubs your face in its crotch. Yet for all its flash, the show’s satirical value feels devoid of meaning.
One example is the show’s inconsistent approach to the handling of sexual assault. While the first season portrayed sexual assault—regardless of the victim’s gender— as a bad thing, the fourth season included a comedic portrayal of the accidental sexual assault of protagonist Hughie Campbell during a BDSM session wherein he is disguised as another, presumably consenting character. In response to online criticism, Kripke defended the
scene as ‘hilarious’ and the idea of someone not knowing their own safe word as a ‘beautiful comedy setup’. Sexual assault, it seems, is only unfunny when it happens to women.
Digging deeper into the show reveals even more troubles relating to sex with most, if not all, of the villains and antagonists being portrayed as violent sexual deviants: BDSM and kink culture are relegated to the villains; their sexual practices revolve around violence, death and humiliation; they have sex out of frustration and angst, out in the street, caking each other in blood, with animals, and in many more ways that would make the toes of a dead nun curl. It’s not a progressive show, rather it’s one steeped in conservative ideas on sexuality and morality. Violence in The Boys like a kid trying way too hard to impress you. Why do we need to see a whale get impaled by a boat? Why do we need to watch someone make love to fish, or have someone be sprayed with bodily fluids from a disturbingly long superhuman enhanced penis? The show’s obsession with upping the trauma inflicted onto its characters has led it to bigger moments becoming empty spectacle. Blood and gore for the sake of shocking the viewer into believing they’re consuming a more intelligent medium that condemns violence when in truth revels in it.
the series themselves, spreading the show’s universe thinner and thinner until the original point becomes clouded by blood and brutal violence. As of 2025,
While characters in The Boys experience physical violence at the hands of supes, they are also the targets of systemic violence, which manifests as corporate decision-making being the root of most cruelty. The show’s attitude towards the mechanisms of capitalism lies in the fictional organisation Vought International, a stand-in for primarily Disney and Marvel, but can also substitute for DC, Warner Brothers or even the show’s own producer, Amazon. Vought is everything that our heroes stand against. Anyone that sides with Vought becomes one of the bad guys. It’s a little ironic when Amazon decided to start franchising
Vought is shown to be a seasoned practitioner of ‘rainbow capitalism’, feeding off LGBTQ+ and racial minority identities to generate profit for the company but protecting violent homophobes and racists, enabling them to reach positions of power. Vought’s daily operations involve concealing the deaths and misdeeds of their superhero celebrities from the public and law enforcement, capitalising upon said celebrities to be integrated into the military to increase revenue through government contracts, undermining women and minorities in their employment, and enforcing strong workplace policies ensuring high productivity. The bottom line is profit, be it ad revenue, franchises or merchandise. Amazon’s money comes at the expense of small businesses, excessive surveillance of workers to ensure they meet deadlines, as well as violations of international labour standards. Both fail to be held accountable
‘The Boys is a piece of intellectual property that uses a veil of progressive politics to distract from how it operates in the wider sphere of culture.’
for their exploitative and manipulative practices. Capitalism has the unique ability to take criticism of itself and turn it into yet another money-making opportunity. The Boys has become a franchise that doesn’t seek to provide a meaningful message beyond the superficial ‘celebrities and greed are bad’. The inconsistencies between what it preaches and what it practices is an ever-widening gulf every season. Kripke can pride his show on
Portman Variations
being as ‘woke’ as he likes, but the fact of the matter is that The Boys is a piece of intellectual property that uses a veil of progressive politics to distract from how it operates in the wider sphere of culture. It disturbs the comforted but fails to offer meaningful critique. The Boys may be aware of the flaws that govern the industry in which it resides, yet those very same sins continue to be committed season after season.
The constructed nature of celebrity and how Natalie Portman resonates with Fergus.
Fergus Sinnott
Spoilers: Black Swan (2010)
Iremember the first time I saw Swan, Darren Aronofsky’s 2010 film starring Natalie Portman. I was sixteen and had downloaded the film illegally on a laptop that my father had recycled to me. I had trained as a ballet dancer as a teenager, and had an instant affinity with Portman’s character, who becomes undone by the lead role she is selected to perform in an upcoming company production. Over the next few years I found myself returning to various films in which she had starred. I rewatched the films in the Star Wars and Thor franchises; I fell in love with her dramatic performances in May December
Professional Garland’s
Jeff VanderMeer’s Southern Reach Trilogy, the first book of which serves as the source material for.
A central tenet of any queer person’s experience is identifying with and situating oneself in relation to the actors and characters one sees in popular culture. My own experiences with this were always in relation to actresses—Natalie Portman, Jodie Foster, Zoe Saldaña, Emily Blunt. They all exude an air of class, competence and warmth, while also being completely kinetic and engaging in their performances onscreen. My teenage years were spent trawling YouTube for
‘The relationship between celebrity influence, ideology and identification by members of the
investments; stars are forced to continue wading through the muddy waters of political correctness in order to not be cancelled or have their projects boycotted; and all the while, the economic gulf between the wealthy Hollywood elites and the general public continues to widen.
It’s in the midst of this that I look to stars like Natalie Portman, and am reminded of why I do so. In 2024, Portman appeared on an episode of The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon to promote her Apple TV+ miniseries The Lady in the Lake This was in the wake of her divorce from Benjamin Millepied, a French dancer and choreographer she had met while filming Black Swan and with whom she has two children. It was poignant to see her appear somewhat shaken, particularly as Fallon mentions her recent encounter with
GASP!
Rihanna, wherein the musician had called her ‘a bad bitch’. Natalie responded by saying ‘I think every woman going through a divorce should get to have Rihanna say to her that she’s a bad bitch.’
This interview epitomises both the strength and classiness that Natalie Portman has always, and continues to, embody within the public eye. In a 2020 episode of the Armchair Expert podcast, Portman spoke about the extent to which her experiences in Hollywood dictated the kind of actor—and person—she became. Following her début as Mathilda in Léon: The Professional, she was subjected to intense scrutiny and overt sexualisation by the media and general public. In an attempt to counteract this, the actress became selective about the roles she took on and sought to foreground the
THERE HAS BEEN A MURDER IN THE FARRAGO OFFICE!
intellect and emotional intensity of her characters rather than their sexuality. And indeed, the only connecting thread between the variety of acting credits across Natalie Portman’s career is the degree of dedication and honesty she brings to each performance. This is without even mentioning the fact that she is a Harvard graduate, speaks multiple languages and also sits at the helm of both a production company and a book club. Natalie Portman is and has always been an exemplar of a performer undeterred by the mechanics of the Hollywood machine, a testament to strength and dedication in all aspects of her work, both onscreen and off. It is the kind of strength and integrity I aspire to and continue to be inspired by from afar.
Detectives Jayden Alexander and Jaymie Nohejl Willis are on the case!
Officers responding to the scene say that a close friend of the deceased found the body in the Media Office, around 4pm on the 20th of March. The body has been identified as Isaac Thatcher, 23. He was found dead, hands tightly grasping an Edition One Farrago. Detectives Jaymie and Jayden say that preliminary investigations have revealed potential foul play, with the victim’s blood found on the beak of a novelty duck umbrella belonging to the victim.
‘At this stage, we can reveal that CCTV footage has been corrupted. We’d like to request for the public’s assistance. Any and all information regarding this case is appreciated,’ says Detective Jaymie.
Art by Jocelyn Soetanto
Thursday Weather Forecast:
11 AM 18°C Light rain
12 PM 20°C Overcast
1 PM 19C Light rain
2 PM 17°C Heavy rain
3 PM 18°C Overcast
4 PM 19°C Overcast
Alex’s Statement: Where was I on the 20th of March? Let me think… Well, I arrived early that afternoon with Emily. This was at twelve, mind you. We went our separate ways—her going to Farrago, myself entering Fodder. I have a show at six, but I had some planning I needed to get done etc. etc. It was about one, I remember seeing the lift open and Isaac come through, with a lady… sorry, I do not know her name… but her hair was ginger, that much I remember. This was about the same time that Emily left… yeah, one o’clock. The lady with ginger hair didn’t stick around either, I saw her exit just an hour later as well. And this is when Tom entered— two o’clock! I left at three, but thinking about it, the only people on the floor at that time before I left were myself, poor Isaac and Tom, and those two were alone together in Farrago… Oh yeah, well I did return at six for my show… but well, by that time, the whole building was sealed off—active crime scene, and all that. So, it all had to be called off—bummer.
Alex’s Alibi
Tom’s Statement:
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely fictional. Isaac is very much alive.
12 PM – I arrived around this time with Emily.
1 PM – Ginger lady entered with Isaac. Emily left a little later.
2 PM – Yeah, I think I saw the ginger lady leave. I know Tom definitely entered sometime after, though!
3 PM – I left around this time.
4 PM – Yeah, I have a show at 6pm. I arrived early for it, had some show planning to do with Aza.
‘Who said I was on campus? I think they’re getting their dates mixed up, cause I definitely wasn’t. Um, I have a lecture that day—but I prefer digital lectures anyway. I think I’ve been to like two, maybe three this semester inperson. It’s all recorded. My condolences to Isaac’s family though.’
Audrey’s Statement I was pretty much alone with I’m gonna need a minute. Oh … sorry, was, my best friend. with him in the Farrago office at 2pm? I-I don’t know, I was literally to him a few hours ago and now gone? I mean I came back after continue studying and when I was just … there. My god, all that It was ghastly. We were supposed together … I just, sorry. I can’t believe got to find who did it. They need
Maddie’s Statement
Maddie’s 11 AM – Arrived something
12 PM –
1 PM – Audrey entered.
name!
2 PM – Audrey woman
3 PM – Alex
4 PM –at the Farrago couldn’t
Yeah, I was on campus on the 20th. I have Fodder show at four, but I also have class day and I left something in the office the before. I distinctly remember being on campus at eleven, getting a Diet Coke at the Campus General Store and then heading in. I remember Alex entering through the lift and coming Fodder at about twelve, I’d say. My class at one, but it was on Zoom so I didn’t leave office. I do remember seeing Audrey and Isaac both entering around this time. Audrey left about an hour later. And a blonde woman came through the lift around the same time. I don’t know her name. A Farrago person, that’s all. Alex left the office around three— seemed a bit off? Sick maybe. They were quiet and fidgety, constantly checking the window into the hall. Kind of glad they left and went down the lift—I like my peace. I liked my peace. Anyway, I started my show at four—but about ten minutes in, that’s when the commotion started to occur. Audrey came back in, and well… I guess she was the poor soul to find him … it was all just chaos. People coming in and out of the lift, going round the hall to Farrago. I marked it as strange at the time—just the amount of people. It’s usually pretty quiet. But then campus security came in, then the police, and then I knew it was something serious. I was told to leave, cut DorkTalk short…
Isaac, um … sorry, Oh god. I mean Isaac is I was literally just up until I left. Like literally talking now he’s … he’s just my class to opened the door, he that … all that blood. supposed to grab coffee believe it. You’ve to pay for this.
Alibi
Arrived before class to pick something up. Alex entered. Audrey and Isaac both
Audrey left, and a blond entered—don’t know her
Alex left. There was a big commotion Farrago Office. I was live so I couldn’t go see.
have a classthethat day Campuscampus comingremember into leavestarted the Isaac blonde same three—person, quiet windowwentpeace. about him Farrago.
Emily’s ‘EveryoneStatement: knows Tom has classes on Thursday. Me? I don’t have any, I came to study in the office that morning and left at noon. Isaac? Who’s he? Never heard of him. Sorry to hear about his murder though.’
Maxwell
Content Warning: gore, burns
My mother, if she knew I was telling this story, would probably roll her eyes and say that I exaggerate.
She doesn’t even remember it happening. The whole thing is sort of her fault, egging people like my aunt Eloise on, whose biggest flaw is that she doesn’t know when to stop talking. But I like to think Eloise at least became a bit more careful after that; every time I went to the salon after what happened she had guilty eyes.
Back in the day my aunt Eloise ran a hair salon. It was a cosy little place and I miss it sometimes. She’s got a place in Malaysia now, where the rent is a third cheaper and the food three times more oily.
Eloise’s salon had what you might call character. There were unopened Coke bottles hung all over the place: normal ones, wide, slim, twisty, souvenirs from Formula One races, bottles from all over the globe. Licence plates from I don’t know where covered the walls—you’d think that someone died and left her an auto dealership. There was even an orange and white floaty ring hanging from one wall, but as far as I knew, Eloise never had time to swim.
Eloise isn’t really my aunt, she’s my dad’s cousin, but family is family no matter how far removed from Eve you are. Eloise and my mother got on like the bourgeoisie and yachts. Every Lunar New Year they’d gather in their own little corner, speaking in low tones and sneaking sly glances at anyone and everyone, grown women acting like teenagers.
My mother doesn’t often have much gossip to share; her conversation mostly consists of how angry I make her. But she knows how to steer a conversation to where it’s most interesting, and then drinks like a horse from a stream. Eloise’s stories would be the stream; when she opens her mouth, she’s unstoppable. I can’t
Kids These Days
blame Eloise. If I heard half the things she did I would’ve blabbed without anyone needing to waterboard me.
I remember why I wanted to be blonde, although I didn’t tell anyone this at the time. I wanted to look like a character from this fantasy anime I was watching. I liked Mitsuki, because she was cute and had a big sword and went around slashing robots. Eloise washed my hair and put the product in, warning me not to scratch at it; it contained an acid that could burn my fingertips, eating away until only the bone stuck out from the fleshy remains of my finger like the end of a meat popsicle. She didn’t say all of that, but I find my imagination tends to veer into dark places. Then she had me lie back on the reclining bed and wait for the stuff to set in. It felt like a ton of fire ants were gnawing at the roots, so you’d think that Eloise would have had the sense not to leave it on for too long.
Is it supposed to burn? I wince.
Yes, dear. Eloise says. It’s a new product, it’s fantastic. Achieves results like no other.
Her face comes close, a brown eclipse interrupting my view of the ceiling lamps. She’s got the look of someone who’s been working a little too hard for too long, the lines of her face poorly hidden behind thick makeup. But there’s something youthful and lively about her all the same. No pain, no gain, Eloise says, before turning back to my mother. Then their tongues began to flap away like flags in the wind.
Eloise says, Did you hear about Ian? No, I didn’t, my mother says. Well, he’s going through a divorce.
My God, my mum gasps, as Eloise massages shampoo into her scalp. What happened? I need to know everything
Eloise was never the best at telling a story, I guess she and my dad have that gene and I think I do too. But I’m getting side-tracked.
Ian and his wife Mae had gotten into a huge fight. Their daughter Angel should’ve been in preschool, but Mae took pride in homeschooling her daughter. Mae’s syllabus was designed to foster
independence and stillness, with selfdirected learning. And Angel was the most well-mannered child anyone ever saw— until her iPad was taken away and she was jerked out of her online rabbit hole. Then she became a whirlwind of anger, swinging her balled fists and shrieking like a hurricane.
Ian worked as an insurance salesman. The job required days away from family. The hours spent at home over the weekend were dedicated to hasty dinners and deep naps before he disappeared to close another deal. Mae worked from home selling luxury candles, so Angel’s education was the best way to keep her sedated.
Once in a while, Ian would come home to pluck the baby birds out of his beard and see how his family was getting along. His break would consist of a whole Saturday free with an overtime coupon to visit a middle-tier restaurant. On this particular Saturday, he and Mae were fighting about Angel before he’d had the chance to take his shoes off. They were supposed to cash in that coupon, but Mae was fed up. My God, she’d said. My God, I’m so sick of everything. I’m sick of this house and I’m sick of doing everything for this daughter of yours and to have you come back and do nothing.
I’m working so this family can have some money, Ian says.
Whatever, Mae says. Whatever. Go spend some time with her. I’m sick of always having to take care of her. She doesn’t even talk to me.
And off she goes, probably to go sniff a couple candles.
My mother interrupts to ask Eloise how she knows all of this, and Eloise says Ian had come and sworn her to secrecy, which she honoured, because this doesn’t count because it’s all in the family, right? And my mother says yes and almost begs Eloise to continue.
I let out a huge sigh. I hear the zweetzweet of the polyester cape as my mother turns to glare at me. Eloise begins to cut her hair, working her way through the wet strands with her comb and scissors.
Art by Elsa Li I say, This stuff is really starting to burn.
Eloise comes over to me. I can tell I interrupted her flow, but I care more about walking out with my follicles intact than whatever talk of the town she’s obsessed with. My mother lets out annoyed sniffs. She thinks she’s sneaky but she’s not. I never understood why she didn’t just get a job at the salon.
Eloise’s latex gloves rub against my scalp.
What’s that smell? I ask, nervous. It’s nothing major, says Eloise. It’s the bleach activating.
Are you sure? I reply.
Looks fine to me, says Eloise. We’ll just leave it on for a couple more minutes.
Mum tells me to stop asking so many questions, and then that girls shouldn’t
ask so many questions, which is rich coming from her. Eloise says that it’s fine that I ask questions, because a curious mind indicates a healthy one, which leads to healthy follicular growth. It’s only when the story continues that I realise Eloise hasn’t answered my question at all.
So, anyway, Eloise says, Ian and his daughter are out. They’re driving down towards the city when Ian asks Angel a question. What really shakes the shit loose from his colon is when Angel replied in a language that he’s never heard in his life. He’s so surprised he almost runs a red light. He looks his daughter dead in the eyes and asks her to repeat herself. And she breaks into an unintelligible monologue.
Never in his entire life has he been so scared. Ian knows the sounds of Mandarin, English, and a lick of Bahasa Melayu. He knows sure as hell that his daughter isn’t speaking any of those.
Angel’s stream of gibberish finally takes its toll. Ian pulls up on the highway in a sweat, searching on his phone for a language similar to the one that Angel is speaking. It’s not French or German or Italian. It’s not Japanese or any of the Chinese dialects. The phone grows slippery in his hands. He sits there begging Angel to start speaking again, but Angel is just looking at her father blankly. They sit on the side of the highway, hazard lights blinking.
Eventually, along comes the police—a man, a second-generation Chinese immigrant and his partner, a small brown woman. They look like serious police folk, sunnies on their noses and guns on their waists. They tap on the window and begin to grill him.
You can’t stop here! It’s a highway, for God’s sake. What the hell are you doing? And that’s a question that Ian can’t answer. Ian stammers and stumbles. Just as Ian thinks that he’s going to be arrested, Angel starts to speak again, surprising the mousy officer. She starts talking to Angel, growing more and more energetic. Meanwhile, Ian and the other officer watch befuddled as the two gab on and on. They’re speaking Tagalog.
Ian’s confused by this, since he can’t speak Filipino and neither can Mae. Ian
asks the police officer to translate, and it eventually comes out that Angel had been binging a soap opera about Filipino teenage vampires. Enraged, Ian drives all the way back home, where he and Mae have another big fight, with cops spectating.
Our daughter speaks Tagalog, Ian says. Mind explaining that?
What the hell are you talking about? Mae retorts.
And it begins to make sense. Angel hasn’t spoken to anyone in so long that she’s completely forgotten how to speak English. So everyone is hauled to the nearest police station and charged with every single violation the constitution can uphold.
That’s that, Eloise says, when she finally concludes. She wipes her hands on her apron. Ian is filing for divorce so that
he can have custody of Angel. Though how he’s going to take care of her, I don’t know.
That’s insane, my mother says, shaking her head as much as she can. She casts a meaningful look at me. See the way she rolls her eyes? She doesn’t like it because it’s the truth.
They didn’t like Jesus because he told the truth, chides Eloise. Now look at him. Son of God. What a great gig.
Amen to that, my mother says, picking up a magazine.
Now let’s check on you, Eloise says to me, and she sprays the showerhead to wash out the bleach. Her fingers run through my hair. The burning’s stopped, and a cool sensation ripples across my scalp. A few seconds pass in silence, and suddenly I’m aware that parts of my head feel breezy and light. The showerhead’s aim is lowered, the spray of water hits the
Confluence of Suburbia
1.
Beneath me, iron wheels gallop in rhythm, remnant of horseshoes on ribbons of steel. The click and clack carries the morning tide surging onto Flinders’ metropolitan shores.
We arrive here seven minutes apart. The span between each departure and arrival breaks the ocean into snow-frosted hills.
We are united by some common purpose, strong enough to leave the comfort of a home. Silently, we hold our intentions in satin ties, marmalade skirts and Swiss backpacks.
For now, we sit somewhere between two dots in the irrelevant abyss of a world seen in transit. Our hearts are not big enough to nurture roots in every direction that our compass points.
We must choose these two points wisely; the loci of our elliptical lives.
2.
A spectacled woman sits across from me without a word spoken that might excavate the sediment of her story.
ceramic bottom of the sink. A few solitary droplets of water creep down my forehead. I meet the gaze of Eloise and see panic. I sit up and stare into the sink, clogged with clumps of gold-white strands.
But that was a long time ago. I’m not mad at Eloise, because that sort of thing can happen to anyone. It sucked for a while, and I was made fun of at school, but things returned to normal. Now, as I’m telling this, I realise that I didn’t need to tell the whole story about Angel and Ian and Mae and everything. Especially since the next time I went to Eloise’s the story was old news. I don’t know what happened to any of them in the end. I’m terrible at telling stories, like I said. Somehow or other something more interesting crops up and I just have to share it, it’s just how it is.
The wrinkles of her skin are surely wisdoms learned from the pains and joys of this world. The woman’s hair of ashen grey lies on the highway between youth and snow; a colour steeped in the art of life.
In this train, fifty lives touch tangentially, compacting fifty stories into an unspoken silence. For now, we sit in each other’s company, blissfully unaware of the giants in the room.
3.
When the carriage jolts or sways, the yellow handles synchronise to the common rhythm of our lives.
When we step off at platform thirteen, the yellow handles will continue to wave;
approaching the asymptote of silence, long after we are gone.
Art by Lauren Luchs
Richie Huang
Covered in dirt under the front porch there is a Littlest Pet Shop. When I went looking with a torch I found a bayonet before I was told to stop.
There is a Littlest Pet Shop, my favourite from childhood, lost as I just found a bayonet and don’t want to stop now – ‘don’t do that, you’ll take out someone’s eye’.
My favourite from childhood, lost as I no longer bathe in laundry tubs. See now, I don’t do that, I’ll take out someone’s eye! Splashing around, I’m not old enough to be
no longer bathing in laundry tubs, see, I will always wash in water from the kettle, splashing around. I’m not old enough to be buried in the ground, food for the stinging nettles.
I will always wash in water from the kettle, and I will always go looking with a torch for treasure buried in the ground; food for the stinging nettles lost in the dirt under the front porch.
in this dream, the council is flesh-free I wake up somewhere, tired and alone the lavender tastes quite like a honeybee
slept under pillow, was you of the willow tree I find the sunken ache that sings inside my bones in this dream, the council is flesh-free
it teases and teethes as if it were a puppy I lie half-awake, and when I’m on my own the lavender stings quite like a honeybee
in lullabies sung to me, they don’t feel glee, but ask, hungrily: have I told strawberry roan they are in this dream, where the council is flesh-free?
nights come now with shards of cold tea in a sweet story in the book I have on loan the lavender tastes quite like a honeybee
I sip and seep into the veins of somebody; they remind me that I hate how you have flown into this dream, where the council is flesh-free the lavender tastes quite like a honeybee!
Phoebe Irish
Phoebe Irish Lyrico
Esther Alex
Content Warning: references to domestic violence
Like a feather in water, Samara’s departure leaves no ripples. Her mother and father have gone grocery shopping and won’t be back for two hours. She has left them a letter on the dining table in which she sounds far firmer and more definitive than she feels. By the time they return, she will have just gotten off the bus at the airport, where she will take the flight to Sydney. Her accommodation is already prepped: a room in a sharehouse with five other people; arranged, a tad dubiously, entirely through social media. As long as she continues walking, one foot in front of the other, there will be a definite, solid path forward.
Samara doesn’t look back at the house on Clarence Street, partly out of fear that doing so will somehow lead, inevitably, to moving backwards, but mostly out of necessity, to ignore the stabbing guilt that will flare when she turns and sees a curly-haired silhouette in the second-floor window. To turn around is to remember the last look on her younger sister’s face, the pinch of her mouth and slant of her eyes, her silence more affronting than any words she could ever say.
The bright sun and sky are at odds with Samara’s mind, where murky thoughts are drowned out by the sound of one long, stretched scream; like a siren. But she appreciates the noise. Penetrating the din, words come to her from her sister’s favourite book when she was little: a science fact book for kids named The Force of Water. She remembers that the strongest natural element on Earth is water. Even the largest rocks in the world will not withstand a few centuries in the ocean. She repeats this to herself like a chant. A reminder that just like all those great rocks withered by water, her own erosion is an inevitable certainty.
In the first year after her departure, Samara takes a job as a swim instructor.
The Force of Water
Five hours a day, five days a week she spends at the pool, teaching kids to blow their bubbles and splash their toes. She finds it ironic; Samara has never been all too fond of water. She can swim, of course, but the true swimmer in her family has always been her sister. Three years Samara’s junior and a state-level swimmer, Hannah Badawi carried herself like the water she loved so much—smooth, graceful and effortless. Samara has always been the runner. She lived for the harsh, rhythmic thudding of feet on ground, and the biting spray of dirt into ankles.
Yet it has been three years, and the pool has embedded itself into the ebb and flow of Samara’s life: the 30-minute train ride, the 15-minute walk, changing into her swimmers, chatting in the staffroom then sliding into the pool at exactly 4pm. The hours blur into a series of smiles, greetings, instructions, hi-fives. In the precious lull at the end of each shift, the teachers finally allow themselves to relax, leaning against lane ropes and platforms. They drift peacefully from lane to lane, or congregate in groups talking about small things like uni assignments, dinner plans, fights with partners or the desire for a big, solid nap. It is during one of these conversations that Samara is asked, ‘What would your dream life look like?’
It is an innocent question, posed to the whole group, but it triggers Samara’s latent sense of fear. This fear escalates as responses are shared around the circle; dreams of teaching, of owning houses, beginning families, dreams that seem simultaneously so simple, and yet so big and out of reach. When it’s her turn to answer she tries to tamp down her fear, makes a flippant joke about becoming the owner of a pool, and allows herself a moment of relief as everyone laughs. But even afterwards, from the relative comfort of home, the question haunts her. And it is not just because she is dreamless or ambitionless—an empty, blank slate upon which nothing will ever be written—but because she is forced to face a part of herself that is dead. The girl who lived in the grand house in eastern
Queensland with her parents and sister, who dreamed of getting her law degree in family violence, who wanted to grow brave and intelligent and admired, died on that rippleless day that Samara left. All that remains now is a shrivelled, cowardly shadow.
But perhaps, Samara ponders glumly, that’s what I’ve always been. She thinks of all the years of cross country racing and training, early morning practices, carefully constructed race plans. Leaving the house as her parents fought, her drumming heart contained by the tight laces of her runners, running and running and running until her mind finally stopped. Standing bent over at the end of her route, hands on her knees, closing her eyes tight and listening to the heaving pant of her lungs, knowing the only way to survive the broken thing she called home was to exhaust herself out of being.
Samara hasn’t run in three years. She tells herself it’s because she has finally escaped the thing she had been running from. But really she knows that to put on her runners and allow her feet to fall back into that same, comfortable rhythm is to admit her guilt—that dirty part of her that will never stop running away. ***
Recently, Samara wonders if she has become too much like water. As she fills her days with repetition, wheedling toddlers into kicking their legs and children into placing their chins on chests, she seems to float, empty and transparent, on the edges of conversations, ensuring not to involve herself too deeply. She can feel her erosion, the dangerous chipping away of the rocky cliffs of her past, making history a soft, blurred thing. The house on Clarence Street becomes a place of laughter and gentle sarcasm, with the scent of something freshly baked wafting through the kitchen and jazz music tinkling through the halls. On some tired nights she allows herself to think of it as home, and finds herself wishing to return.
But on other nights, she lies paralysed by memories of tall men in dark hallways with taller, darker shadows. Of her mother
screaming of monsters and ravines, of death, death, death. Of less violent, but just as terrifying things, like looking in the mirror and seeing her father in her face, her limbs, the crook of her nose and the silent, raging anger inside of her. Like those electric days after an explosion where her mother would sit and mutter, in trancelike despair, wishing for a perfect future in which they were not free but erased, completely and swiftly, their laughter and tears and breaths turned into a non-existent hypothetical. And in those nights Samara realises that erosion is not erasure. That rocky cliffs become pebbles become sand become steeped into water, now poisoned with her memories.
Earlier in the year, Hannah turned 17. Samara had typed out a happy birthday message, but it had lain unsent in her drafts. She watched her sister’s celebration from afar, translated through screens, gifs and social media posts, and felt a deep, stinging sorrow. Hannah’s high school graduation is seven months away, and Samara has promised herself that this time she will reach out. She will congratulate Hannah, tell her she loves her and misses her.
But she is afraid, knowing that she is bound by the past, of the memory of her sister’s face as she abandoned her, graceful even in the face of betrayal. Samara worries that any attempt to reach out will be strangled by her own need to defend herself. She imagines her excuses spilling out of her, stories of her youth, her pain, her loneliness, and worries that Hannah will see through it all and realise how pathetic Samara has always been. That Hannah will say, ‘But I was there too. I was also young, in pain, lonely. I couldn’t leave.’ She will close her eyes and let out one small, brief sigh, before looking Samara straight in the eyes. She will thank her, she will let her go—’Thank you Sammy. I appreciate it, you can go now.’ —and then turn and rise, weightless. Left behind, Samara will drown, swallowed by water, rock, memory.
Recently, it has been raining. The heavy sky emits a slow, steady drizzle that has continued for the past month. Samara doesn’t like it. She dislikes the slow itch
it ignites within her. Her running shoes seem to taunt her from the corner of her room. Memories play on the back of her eyelids like a movie. The slap of soles in muddy puddles and rain pouring into every little crevice until she cannot see, and yet she is flying, drowning, free.
She feels like this every once in a while, an itch so strong she wants to tear out of the apartment and sprint down the street until she can no longer walk. But she restrains it each time, occupying herself with other tasks. She cleans every inch of her room, then the kitchen, then the bathroom she shares with two of her roommates. She cooks elaborate multicourse meals that take hours and hours, and divides them amongst everyone in the apartment. She picks up new hobbies. Tries studying random languages from YouTube videos or buys crochet materials or watercolour paints. This time however, none of these tactics seem to be working. The itch grows and grows, insistent and droning under her skin.
She thinks the dreams where she is back at Clarence Street have been making it worse. In those dreams, outside it is raining, and inside her parents fight. Samara turns, robotic, to the front door, with runners on and her front leg raised, ready to break into a steady jog. But before she can begin, she evaporates, bursting into a thousand raindrops. Right before she wakes she sees everything she touches burst too: the shoe rack, the door, her parents, and finally, Hannah, who watches her with wide, serious eyes.
Samara is distracted as she teaches that evening, thinking of a page from The Force of Water. Not all raindrops touch the ground. Some are too light, and evaporate as they fall. This rain is called virga. She feels that way now, as if she is something incomplete, removed from the cycle of life. She watches people around her touch the ground and soak meaning into the dirt around them, but finds she can not do the same. Each time she seeks to fall, she is insubstantial, disappearing before she is given the opportunity to be. ***
Two days before Hannah’s graduation ceremony, which Samara has been keeping track of through Instagram and
the school’s website, the itch becomes unbearable. Samara finds her runners laced in tight double knots on her feet, her old shorts on, the lightweight fabric of activewear on skin. She is out of the house before she knows it, into the rain which has not yet stopped. And she runs. It has been years and she is no longer the runner she used to be. Her gait is wrong, her strides inconsistent, and her stamina not what it once was. She is struggling after only a kilometre, her breath heaving, sweat, indistinguishable from the rain, forming rivers that flow never-ending down her face. And yet the pain, deep and throbbing in her chest, is one so sweet, so familiar, that she allows it to break her down into limbs, muscle and ligament. She is nothing more and nothing less than this consistent, repetitive act of violence, in which she pushes herself beyond breath. Samara keeps running. As she gasps for breath and reprieve from water, she feels herself underneath her skin, 16 years old, hurting and itching for escape. She seems to split, her younger self peeling away from her, long legs slamming on grass in a merciless, incessant rhythm. Suddenly this is a race, one in which Samara is an inevitable but persistent loser. She finds herself adjusting, slipping back into old strategies, determined to maintain a consistent 10 stride distance. As her vision darkens into that old, familiar blur, she begins to see things. Memories. A card given to her by one of her students, on it her head drawn cartoonishly big, her teacher shirt a bright neon yellow. The dinner she hosted at the apartment the other day, where her roommates and work friends met for the first time. The glow she felt as they complimented her cooking and asked her for recipes. Her bedroom, the first place in which each and every element—the second-hand Ikea furniture, the scrappy photo wall, the hanging jewellery shelf—is entirely hers. Arranging her bed to face the window, so that every day she is awoken by the sunrise and the world is tinged purple, orange and yellow.
Samara notices that ahead, her younger self has stopped running. She catches up, looks into her eyes, but they are empty, hopeless. Abruptly she is 16 once again,
living in that pulsing electric silence, trying so badly to dream but finding every possible path forward blocked by shadows in doorways, doomsday whispers, her inevitable growth into an old, despairing woman who wishes for erasure. She is 16 and she knows her death looms. But Samara, 20 years old now, is not 16, and knows that death can come in different forms. One in which a body grows cold, breathless and soulless, and one in which you are reshaped, born into a different skin. This is her skin now, the skin which turns from herself and keeps running, which exalts itself in its limits, its lack, its inability, its ultimate, irreversible survival. And this skin is sprinting now, feet barely striking the ground, seeing tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Seeing Hannah’s graduation, their shattered, hesitant reunion, each beautiful, fragmented hour that will piece together the rest of her life. Airborne, Samara is everything she could possibly be: the past, the present, the future, a screaming lung that breathes.
Collins St
He’s the sort of chap who walks at right angles
Around the well-lit, open plan morgue With coffee machines and touch screens And table tennis tables—
All for the comfort of the corpses!
Promising young cadavers pass him
Mapping their daily Etch-a-Sketch paths
In tailored, Italian breathable three-piece coffins He is of the English persuasion; Not Armani but Burberry clings to his cold skin
As a child he would pick blueberries in the
summer
And eat them and be happy and–And eat more berries
Now he carries a (not very) brief case Of dying light by his side
But when he dreams, it is of berries
And the ocean and sex and snow
The dead cannot dream like so He does not carry a scythe He does love his wife
He does
What is the Definition of an Idiom?
Aaron Agostini
all words are made up. pranav smiles. he is a six foot tamal man from a poor family. he is afraid that he does not speak english correctly. I tell him that there is no correct
way to speak english and he tells me that rings his bell.
Art by Elsa Li
Tom McKenzie
Art by Jess Nguyen
The Myth of Sisyphus
Sonnet Mamgain
Content Warning: infant death
i wanted to thank sisyphus for rolling the rock up the hill only to watch it roll down again —
i rolled a rock to my baby’s grave but it failed to roll back down it stood erect like the apathetic night of conception where careless whisper played — and after which my mother wept — flag poles also stand vertically soldiers upright and mary at the altar as the masses pray trees outside churches are very straight until they snap — why sleep eternally?
i followed the railway tracks extending further away without looping back
i lay — flat — waited for the train to be the knife cutting the meat into two double the graves
but it chugs only further away the watchman said to me the whistle fades into silence only once i told him of multiverses — you were conceived and Born raised and Gone like the smoke of my cigarette igniting extinguishing and collapsing into the wasteland of my ashtray —
there you were Breathing Breathing mouthing polyphonies and symphonies before hallelujah played behind the bagpipes of a Veiled parade —
drunk and anaesthetised i could feel you rocking in the cradle while you sunk into the casket further and further away from me they closed the coffin and gave me hallow words and a golden goose which swam further and further away (on a lake that froze — where do the fishes go in winter?)
roll it up for me sisyphus! and let it fall except the boulder’s erected next to the tomb mouthing auden’s funeral blues
you had My eyes and My spinal cord a guest in My womb unborn, newborn, now Gone i became the second skin slipping into your laughs and collapsing into your silence —
give me a boulder to roll up a hill only to watch it roll down again
give me your boulder sisyphus! or let your boulder roll over Me instead —
Art by Amber Liang
Sabine Pentecost
Content Warning: death
The Dead Man’s Hand
Ham and cheese, chicken salad, cheese and pickle. My mother lays out each wholemeal triangle with little silver tongs. A small bump of the table with my hip exposes the innards of a chicken sandwich. She tuts pointedly.
‘Aunt Eleanor was a fucking vegan.’ I mutter as my mother picks up the fallen soldier. My fingers find the lighter in my pocket, the metal still warm from my
My mother never got on with her sister. I phrase it like that as the dislike was predominantly one-sided, judgement flowing freely from my mother yet not met with an equal reaction. This was the first thing you and I had in common. My mother wasn’t fond of me either, an attitude that originated and cemented itself in our relationship long before I could prove myself. As a child, it destroyed me, but there is only so much damage one can find pain in. You understood that, and so I fit perfectly under your wing.
The last time I saw you, we drank Earl Grey and cut the stalks off flowers, dropping proteas and grevilleas into fresh water. You always opted for a little extra colour in your space. We sit on foldable chairs— the classroom kind with vinyl-covered slivers of foam for the seat. There isn’t enough room for everyone and so close family were shuffled to the very front of the Parish hall. If I lean slightly, I can almost rest my chin on the stage. My damp hands press prints into the thin booklet of hymns on my lap as my mother and cousins hold theirs open like an offering. You used to laugh at all , you called it. Always turning round from the row in front to wink at me during ‘Blessed Assurance’, knowing I was poorly lip-syncing the words in quiet defiance. I would never let the melodies
I almost can’t believe they’d force this prayer shit onto you, especially on the one day you can’t protest. I suppose that’s part of the fun, now they can do whatever they please. If this was someone else’s funeral and you were here on the rickety chair beside me, you wouldn’t think twice about saying something. Ah, they’d fucking hate this and you know it, I can hear you so clearly in my ear. Thank you, for drowning
My grandfather, still looming large despite his stooped frame, steps before the podium. I have always dreaded his serious
drawl, perpetually delivering a sermon of sorts or preaching at the dinner table. He thinks he was a missionary in his past life.
‘Eleanor, I stand before you as your loving father in body and in spirit. Your life took an interesting path, but all roads have led you to a heavenly conclusion.’ He bows his head, spectacles threatening to dribble over the end of his nose. ‘God has let you into his heart today.’
The metal legs of my chair scratch the polished floor as I stand up. My mother looks up at me, perplexed and exasperated, grabbing lamely at my pant leg to try and force me into my seat. I wriggle ungracefully in response.
‘Is that seriously what you’ve chosen to say?’ I ask. ‘You should know your own daughter well enough to know that she wouldn’t have wanted a goodbye like this.’ My grandfather’s small eyes catch the light, unblinking.
‘Sit down, son.’
‘No, it’s disgusting! You couldn’t tolerate her when she was alive, but now you think you have the right to snuff her out on her final day?’
‘This is a family event—’
‘It is not! It’s her event. Are you all here for Eleanor, or have you only shown up so that God can see you at least made an appearance?’ Murmurs begin to circulate through the rows. ‘She’s laughing at all of you, at how you never managed to surprise her. Not in 56 years.’
I step into the aisle, framed on both sides by fluffy beacons of white chrysanthemum. I look down at my mother. ‘She would never have imposed herself upon you like this.’
‘For God’s sake, Elliot,’ she whispers as I storm past her. The murmurs grow louder as I sail toward the exit.
‘Fussing isn’t no way to send Eleanor off.’ Someone tuts.
‘Didn’t you raise this boy better?’ Their words speed towards me but bounce off my jacket, impenetrable. I fling open the double doors at the back of the hall, admittedly relishing in the dramatics of my exit.
The church carpark is dotted with
familiar station wagons, forming a congregation around the singular oak tree at its centre. The leaves are dropping, hitting the bonnets with caresses so light I cannot quite hear. You would tell me to listen closely, to get lost in the small, soundless breaths of the world.
I shake a flattened packet of
Chesterfield’s until one falls out sadly, slightly ovular from being pressed against a fold-out chair all morning. I thumb the lighter in my pocket again—your lighter. With its grooves and scratches, the zippo maps a life well lived and well loved. I bring it before the afternoon’s gaze to light the cigarette in my mouth. Etched on the
Sleeping Dogs Lie
Aaliyah Zaph
Content Warning: misogyny, sex, allusions to domestic abuse
There’s a man at the zebra crossing today. Not the 20-something girl tradie who usually stands there, the one with the butterfly tooth gem and big earrings. Today, there’s a man. Carolyn hasn’t seen her dad since Year 10, but the man at the zebra crossing is what she vaguely imagines him to look like: weathered face cracked from the cold, a big gap from where his front tooth once jutted out. Carolyn asks him about the girl, and he grins and says, ‘That crazy bitch dented a guy’s car. Said she’d had enough and whacked her stop sign over it.’ He laughs and Carolyn smiles but it’s more like a grimace, and when he stops the traffic for her, he says, ‘There you go, pet,’ and Carolyn wonders how one evolves from ‘pet’ to ‘bitch’.
Carolyn pauses in front of the building. The building is the beauty salon of Chisholm TAFE’s Frankston campus. From outside, she can see him in the lobby, waiting for her. ‘Him’ is Jake. Last time Carolyn saw Jake they had sex at his house. He looked at her with such intensity she thought she might melt. Carolyn didn’t want to melt, not into anything or nothing. She knew then that their relationship needed to end. Her pants were crumpled on the floor when she broke up with him.
She opens the door with force and plans to march straight past him into the salon. Inside, she’ll comb her hair into a
low bun and talk to the other girls. They’ll complain about their dads and brothers and boyfriends like they’re naughty puppies—cutely incompetent. Then, she’ll wash her hands.
Carolyn played Lady Macbeth for a semester in drama class, so now just the action of washing her hands pulls the words out of her: ‘Out damned spot!’ Every time she wrings her hands under the running water, she remembers the giddiness she felt in those classes, where a life of theatre and hope, away from her mum, was real. It’s cruel, really, the reminder each day.
Lastly, her instructor will go through the assignment expectations. After this assessment, they’ll be qualified to perform the Swedish shoulder massage.
***
body is a skeletal hand, fanning out two aces and two eights, clubs and spades. The last hand of Wild Bill Hickok, you told me as a child, my plump fingers trying desperately to flick the spark wheel. He was a real cowboy, you said, he died as he lived
During all this, she’ll have time to figure out what to say to Jake. ‘Thank you’, probably. Starting with a thank you would be nice—and she is thankful. She had to source the person to perform the massage on, and everyone else fell through. Her mum doesn’t go outside much, scared she’ll run into Carolyn’s dad. Carolyn’s friends were all from theatre, and they moved to Perth to study at WAPA. Jake was sort of all she had. But as soon as she opens the door, Jake turns around and her plan has gone to shit because they’ve already made eye contact. When he walks towards her, lips split in a lopsided grin, he reminds her of a baby elephant. Big and strong but wobbly and uncertain in his hugeness.
‘Hey,’ he says.
Carolyn wonders if he’s fucked anyone since her. Instead of asking, she says, ‘You’re here early.’
He grunts in response.
‘Thanks for coming,’ she says. ‘Seriously. I’ll be right back to come get you.’ She darts through the salon doors.
***
ACT ONE
A wooden slate forms a half-assed set design of an 18th-century cobblestone street. Some buildings aren’t even painted in. Wood knots peek out like eyes.
COLUMBINA
Things must never be allowed to go— The wooden slate tumbles down, almost taking COLUMBINA with it. COLUMBINA rips off her mask, revealing a small but mean schoolgirl, CAROLYN.
CAROLYN
Are you serious?
A few VCAL BOYS, visible now the slate has fallen, laugh and talk.
CAROLYN
How can I act when my life is at risk? Miss, can the VCAL boys go back to … whatever it is they do in VCAL?
JAKE, one of the unworthy VCAL BOYS,
trudges over.
JAKE
Sorry. Didn’t mean to.
CAROLYN
Could you try to be genuine?
JAKE
Okay. Sorry. You’re a good actress. CAROLYN crosses her arms, unimpressed.
JAKE
Okay, I’ll try again. Your tits look hot when you push them up like that. CAROLYN immediately drops her arms, irritated. JAKE grins at her.
JAKE
What’s with the mask? He picks it up off the ground and inspects it, swinging away from CAROLYN with ease as she tries to snatch it from him.
CAROLYN
It’s commedia dell’arte. A beat. CAROLYN snatches the mask off him.
CAROLYN
I’m Columbina. She’s one of the leads, actually. MISS WHITE wanders over.
MISS WHITE (pointed)
She’s also the most calculated. She talks to boys, but she’s clever about it. Let’s go again.
JAKE walks away, looking back at CAROLYN as he does. MISS WHITE watches CAROLYN watch JAKE, concerned. ***
Carolyn leads Jake into the room where rows of massage tables are separated by thin curtains. A YouTube video entitled ‘Luxury Spa Music’ rattles through a croaky speaker.
‘No expense spared,’ Carolyn remarks as she sits down on a plastic chair. She thought of that line yesterday and decided to say it here, so it comes out a little stilted. Embarrassed, she gestures for Jake to sit on the bed. He stands, hands on hips, surveying the premises. He pushes his hands against the mattress as if to test its bounce. ‘Is it up to scratch?’
‘Not too shabby.’ He reaches up onto his tip toes and flaps his hands about, trying to touch the fan above them.
‘Stop it,’ Carolyn orders. Her voice is hard, maybe too hard. She avoids his gaze, nervous that she will be met with cold,
dead eyes. When she eventually looks at him, it’s clear that he’s been staring at her for a while. His eyes are light.
‘I’ve gotta fill out this form,’ she says. ‘For the assessment. They’re marking me on how well I do.’ He doesn’t say anything. ‘Do they ever do that to you err … on the construction site?’
He stares at her, confused. ‘No.’
Carolyn nods and busies herself with the patient form. ‘Okay. Do you have any allergies?’
‘Sorry about WAPA. I know you really wanted to get outta here.’
‘Allergies, Jake.’
‘Seriously though.’
Carolyn wishes she could be above responding, but she isn’t. ‘I got in, actually. I turned it down.’
‘Huh?’
‘I wanted stability. Acting isn’t stable.’ The words are her mother’s, and as she says them, she feels possessed, like some wise, sanctimonious demon.
‘You should take on every opportunity that comes at you,’ Jake supplies.
‘I didn’t realise they taught philosophy at trade school.’
‘You’re in trade school too.’
Carolyn can hear the lick of delight in Jake’s voice as he says this. In high school, he was acutely aware of what people thought, and the generally accepted opinion was that Carolyn was going places, and he wasn’t. He presumed she thought the same. The truth was, Carolyn never thought that she was smarter than Jake; she knew that she was. The world that she inhabited—the invisible burdens, the overwrought thought processes, the fear—would always be too complicated for him to understand. Their circumstances felt radically different. Jake was where he intended to be; Carolyn saw beauty school as a backup for her Real Plans. But Jake wouldn’t understand that, so Carolyn sighs and asks him again, ‘Your allergies?’
‘You know.’
ACT TWO
In an empty theatre classroom, a table displays a bunch of shoddily made commedia masks.
CAROLYN holds a mask over her face and turns to look at JAKE.
JAKE
You look like a clown or some shit.
CAROLYN
I do not.
CAROLYN picks up another mask from the table and throws it at JAKE. He holds it up and laughs.
JAKE
Fucking hell. That’s an ugly bitch.
CAROLYN She has a name.
JAKE
Miss White?
CAROLYN No! Oh my god Jake, you can’t say that. (a beat)
Her name’s Ruffiana. She’s older, unmarried. A prostitute. She’s one of the few female commedia characters to wear a mask.
JAKE
If she took it off, she might get somewhere.
CAROLYN
I think that’s why she put it on. A thoughtful silence. CAROLYN attempts humour.
CAROLYN
You’d be Brighella. Everyone laughs at Brighella. Amused, JAKE lightens reluctantly.
JAKE
Everyone laughs at me?
CAROLYN
Well … No, but Brighella has the strongest survival instinct. He’s smart and opportunistic. And a womaniser, so. JAKE laughs. He grabs another mask from the pile.
JAKE
Who’s this, then?
CAROLYN
Signora. She’s old, and money obsessed. Really money obsessed.
JAKE
So a complete catch.
CAROLYN
I dunno. She reminds me of my mum.
JAKE
Greedy?
CAROLYN No. Scared.
***
Carolyn places her fingers onto Jake’s shoulder, right beside his neck, while he lies on his front. He’s so vulnerable like
this. She could choke him if she wanted to. She’s not a threat though, not like he is.
When Jake drinks he gets ‘fucking aggro’, which all his mates assure Carolyn is ‘good fun.’ Once, he punched the Myki card reader at Bonbeach Station and split his knuckles. The card reader stayed broken for six months, beheaded, wires sticking out of it like cauterised veins. Every time Carolyn walked past it on her way to school, she’d think of him and his fist and wonder where that anger came from, and when it would be directed at her.
It felt like a betrayal when her body softened against his, when she was able to sleep next to him.
‘Okay, roll over,’ she says. She holds up the sheet around his waist so he can turn around without her getting an eyeful of his underwear.
‘You know you can do acting at TAFE,’ he says as her fingers dig into the front of his left shoulder. ‘You don’t need to go to some fancy-ass school.’
She presses her fingers in harder. He flinches and slaps at her hand.
‘That’s not very nice,’ he says. Nothing’s nice. Carolyn’s mum made sure she knew that from a young age. She can trace a lot of decisions back to her mum. Doing a free course so you don’t need a loan. Ending things with Jake before you get hurt. Letting go of that acting dream because the lack of stability will only put you in a dangerous position. Carolyn’s mum was wrong about a lot of things, but a broken clock is right twice a day. Life is unpredictable. When you get to choose—which isn’t often—choose wisely. Carolyn chose wisely.
The massage is done. Carolyn’s instructor walked past and shot her a thumbs up, but she shot everyone a thumbs up, so the action was hardly special. Carolyn sits across from Jake in the same chair as before.
‘What are you doing after?’ He turns around while he asks this. She’s 90 per cent sure it’s an attempt to appear casual and unbothered. She appreciates that she’s not the only one with an affinity for constructing moments.
‘I’m here all day,’ she says.
‘I’m at the site ‘til three. I could come
back after,’ he says.
‘And do what?’
‘You know,’ he says.
It’s funny because she doesn’t know. She could hazard a guess, but it would be just that: a guess. She suspects that Jake doesn’t know either.
‘Jake, I’m thankful that you did this for me. Seriously. I would’ve failed if you hadn’t agreed to do this. But there’s not … I’m not … this doesn’t change anything, you know.’
Jake turns around, his hands on his hips. ‘You’re not letting it change anything. You’re just being the same.’
Carolyn says nothing and watches as Jake’s expression closes off. His mouth relaxes into a frown, and his eyes, dark and cold, narrow with understanding. Carolyn hasn’t seen her dad since Year 10, when her mum called the cops on him, but right now, Jake is what she vaguely imagines him to look like. It’s like the man from her mum’s stories has escaped from the prison of her mouth, just as angry as he was when he was sentenced.
Carolyn wants to teach him, tell him how to be, show him how hands can make and not break. She can see, like her mum probably did, that it’s too late. He’s staring at her like he’s figured her out. He’s pulled her apart, he’s seen her layers and made sense of her, and now he doesn’t want her. She managed to disguise herself as something sweet, something light on the tongue, something to own. Lovey, sweetheart, doll, pet. She’s tricked him; she’s a bitch.
She watches Jake wring his hands together. He massages his palms like he’s tending to a wound.
ACT THREE
The shoddily made stage in all its glory. Under bright lights, CAROLYN, masked as COLUMBINA, performs.
CAROLYN, AS COLUMBINA I but repeat the words of my mother, who was—
The sound of a gunshot. CAROLYN, AS COLUMBINA, falls down. She lies on the ground, unmoving.
BRIGHELLA enters the stage, smoke blowing from the top of his gun.
CAROLYN, AS HERSELF
(whispered)
Hold still. Be quiet. Don’t breathe. Let him do it.
BRIGHELLA
I saw the opportunity and took it. Can you blame a man?
CAROLYN’S words echo in a loop. We hear her everywhere. Behind us. Before us. Inside us. We exist in the space where her lips brush the mask.
BRIGHELLA recites his line again and again, over the loops of CAROLYN’S voice.
CAROLYN, AS HERSELF
(looped audio)
Hold still. Be quiet. Don’t breathe. Let him do it.
CAROLYN, AS HERSELF (looped audio)
Hold still. Be quiet. Don’t breathe. Let him do it.
BRIGHELLA
I saw the opportunity and took it. Can you blame a man?
BRIGHELLA
I saw the opportunity and took it. Can you blame a man?
CAROLYN, AS HERSELF
Let him do it. Fade to black.
Hannah Yates ‘lake fisherman’
Thou Whomst Vapeth uppon Southerly Lawn
In the past, you experienced hardship which caused great upheaval. Since, you have been struggling to reconcile and accept the impacts. To cope, you partake in vaping without considering the long-term effects. However, a lack of focus and recklessness means you are missing opportunities staring right at you. You take solace in friends who offer respite and flighty escape from that which troubles you. You will eventually encounter divergent paths, not all of which you will be able to take. The decision will be a hard one. Your friends will guide you, aligning you with your passions and allowing a transformation you have been denying yourself. Until then, beware the vaping prevention officer.
Tarot Readings:
Farrago editor, Pokemon fan and amateur cartomancer
Romeos Penning Missives
Esquires Swearing Fealty to a College
You commenced the year with an intense aura and vigour. Despite juggling assignments and college life, your resolve has helped you overcome adversity. However, you may find yourself struggling to endure the current semester. Trust in yourself. People will be drawn to you. In between your many commitments, reserve some energy for yourself. Venture into nature and indulge your creative pursuits. You’ll finish the year with new friends, new accomplishments and maybe even a new lease on life. And even if you don’t, your vast riches will probably ensure you’re fine anyway.
Via UniMelb Love Letters, you’ve invested of time and energy informing the whole Resultantly, you’ve been anxious, unsure of others. Now, you’re at a crossroads The universe is asking you to look within Reexamine how you relate to others. under your radar. Only one way to find it’s difficult and continue to pursue love–and devotion to Love Letters…
cartomancer Marcie Di Bartolomeo reads YOUR fortune!
Missives of
Courtly Love
invested a significant amount whole world about your love life. unsure and searching for the wisdom crossroads and your intuition is rising. within instead of toward Facebook. Perhaps someone has been flying find out. Make a choice, even if love–and maybe let go of your
Serfs Quaffing Coffee from ye General Shoppe
Once upon a time, you bought coffee for the low, low price of $1.90. You could shoulder your late night study sessions without breaking the bank. All was fair with the world. Everything changed when the price of a small coffee increased to $2.50. Since, you’ve been grieving for the cheap joy robbed from you. Is it even worth depriving yourself of the good stuff anymore? I mean, Castro’s is only a couple extra dollars in comparison and probably tastes a whole lot better … Consider this a time of mourning, and a time of preparing for the worse to come. Another price hike is inevitable, and fast approaching in this economy! Consider shilling for 7/11 instead.
Scribes Illuminating ye Farrago Manuscript
Burdened with too many assignments, you took a leap of faith, plunging into Farrago. You have many hurdles such as new deadlines to overcome, but you’re fearless enough to endure it all. One day, a new acquaintance will pop into your world and offer an irresistible opportunity. It is an enticing offer, but be wary of the blood, sweat and tears required by such a venture. Ultimately, it is a decision guided by passion, sacrifice and commitment to Google Doc suggestions mode.
Artful Polyptych by Connor Hughes
‘AS THE NUMBERS GREW, SO DID THE PROBLEMS’
Immigration and International Students Through the Eyes of Farrago in the 1950s
Today, around 45 per cent of the student body at the University of Melbourne is comprised of international students. Yet during postwar Australia, non-white international students were still a rare and exotic sight. In a period of mass European migration alongside stringent immigration policies against non-white migrants, the presence of international students brought conversations that were reflected in both national and student press. From its first publication in 1925, Farrago has always urged students away from apathy and toward passion. Since then, students have spilled their discontent, frustration and rage into its pages, allowing us to take an inside look at their gripes and dissent. Farrago and the University of Melbourne are no strangers the discourses and controversies of immigration and racial politics. After all, the University was the centre of Australian eugenics study, and former Farrago editor and university professor Geo rey Blainey infamously declared in the 1980s that Australian immigration policies had developed a 'proAsian, anti-British character' which threatened the nation’s social stability. With the backdrop of the White Australia Policy in the 1950s, how did students react to the first arrivals of international students and how was that reflected in Farrago? How did students’ perceptions of who belonged in the University say about Australian identity and student action at the time?
The influx of German immigrants after World War Two generated headlines across the nation debating whether they should be permitted to migrate to Australia, and Farrago was no exception. As a member of the Allied forces, Australia deemed German Nationals ‘enemy aliens’ and did not allow them to enter the country until 1952. In the press, German migrants were either seen as a valuable and hardworking migrant source or were questioned on their political reliability. Similarly, writers of Farrago defended and scrutinised the political position of new German migrants, which became one of the first debates on immigration to be platformed by the publication. In October 1949, Farrago reported that before 700 students in Wilson Hall, German Pastor Martin Niemoller compared the United Nations’ (and by extension Australia’s) attitudes towards post-war displaced persons in Europe to that of Nazis, saying that 'like Hitler they were only interested in the physically healthy, in the young', showing explicit support for German migration to Australia. He was supported by a writer in the same issue who argued that those who oppose German immigration because of their association with the Nazis 'must damn [them]selves too if [they] permit the Bigotry Bill, the White Australia Policy, anti-Semitism, the anti-Balt discrimination to go unchallenged.' In the following 1950 issue, Farrago founder Brian Fitzpatrick attacked Niemoller and his apologists, accusing German immigrants of being 'impenitent [and] unshriven.'
This debate was raised to the international stage as students from the University of Cologne wrote to Farrago in September
1951 in response to ‘Germans Will Betray Us’, an anti-immigration article published in March. In their letter, the German students rebut the claims that Germans are still influenced by Nazi propaganda and hence unwelcome in Australia. They asked for the acceptance of Germans whose communities and livelihoods were decimated by the war who had come to work and study in Australia. On the same page, Farrago attached a response from the Jewish Students’ Society, who reinforced that German youth would not be suitable migrants at that time as they were still indoctrinated by the Nazis. The scrutiny and judgement German migrants faced in the early 1950s eventually faded away as a migration agreement between the German and Australian government allowed large
‘Can’t do much cooking here.
Think I’ll eat out.’
numbers of Germans to receive assisted passage into Australia. As these German migrants were gradually accepted into Australian society, the subject of immigration discourse in Farrago shifted to international students from Asia.
Initiated in 1951, The Colombo Plan was a Cold War foreign aid project which hosted international students from the Asia-Pacific studying in Australia. By the early 1950s, around 4,000 Asian students were enrolled into Australian universities annually, mostly from Indonesia and Malaya. This influx of international students to the nation and university campuses during a stringent period of the White Australia Policy played an important role in shifting the public and university students’ perception of Asian people and lifting the discriminatory immigration policies in Australia. In 1952, Farrago announced that an ‘overseas editor’, Mr. J. S. A. Fernando from Ceylon, had been appointed to foster better understanding of overseas students. International students were encouraged to send news items and stories from their home country to display their culture in Farrago.
Among the many obstacles international students faced when they arrived Australia, Farrago most extensively reported
Student Action Campaign against the White Australian Policy during the 1961 Federal Election. 1961. University of Melbourne Archives. https:// archives.library.unimelb.edu.au/nodes/view/336692.
on their poor housing conditions in Melbourne. In a 1952 article, Farrago revealed that international students lived in disgraceful slums ‘without many of the basic necessities of a home.’ Reporting that a building was ‘falling into pieces’, these students’ accommodation seemed dire as they desperately requested basic furniture such as beds, tables and chairs. Farrago also publicised the Student Representative Council’s (SRC) fundraising campaigns for building an international college. The International House was proposed to be a residential college where international and local students could live and work side by side, ‘building a bridge of understanding and goodwill in a seriously divided world.’ In an article promoting the appeal for the college, the publication quotes a social services worker, saying that by living in the International House, Asian students can ‘rid themselves of the notion that they [are] ‘foreign’ or ‘alien’, as all the residents in the house would be on the same social basis. Successfully established in 1956, the International House became the first of such international student accommodation among Australian universities, and Farrago continued to play an important role in facilitating inter-cultural exchange by spotlighting student delegations travelling to Asia.
In student accommodations and on campus, white Australian students interacted with Asian people in a way that Australians in the broader community in Melbourne did not. This demystified and challenged the highly propagandised ‘yellow peril’ that the government was promoting, pushing students to speak out against prejudices against Asians and the White Australia Policy. In 1952, Farrago published a letter from a sta member to Harold Holt, who was the Minister for Immigration at the time. The writer condemned Holt’s policies toward international student employment, proclaiming that Australia is ‘committing suicide’ if it continues to create bitterness with Asian intellectuals who will become the future leaders of their countries. Curiously, there was a distinct lack of Asian voices in Farrago during this time, with many articles being second-hand reports written by white writers on behalf of their international peers. While we see Farrago writers passionately advocate for international students and immigrants, it is important to
Alan Studios. International House Foundation Members, University of Melbourne, 1958. 1958. University of Melbourne Archives. https://archives. library.unimelb.edu.au/nodes/view/441623.
remember the publication was still created by predominantly white writers. Therefore, Asian students remained outsiders in Farrago’s coverage, who were only mentioned when reporters wrote of their exotic cultural backgrounds or their struggles settling into Australia.
In the 1960s, student protest movements began to kick o , and members of the University community formed student action groups to protest the White Australian Policy. It is undeniable that the cultural exchange and exposure facilitated through international students pushed student activists to instigate and participate in these debates, which were then publicised and magnified by student publications like Farrago. With the ongoing housing crisis in Australia and global hostilities against immigrants on the rise, international students are still a point of contention in today’s press. Now is the time to listen to and promote international and nonwhite students who are speaking up for themselves on student media platforms like Farrago. If we look back in time to see the beginnings of student movements in history, student publications like Farrago are a pretty good place to start.
Ads and Ends
Note: While some of these businesses and enterprising individuals are still living among us today, do not expect any of the deals advertised to still be valid today.
2004
1968
from 1970 (vol. 48, no.
from 1968 (vol. 48, no. 22)
2004
1947
from
(vol. 83, no. 2)
from
(vol. 83, no. 1)
from
(vol. 23, no. 24)
from
(vol. 46, no. 22)
4)
from 1972 (vol. 50, no. 7)
from 1955 (vol. 31, no. 1)
from 1955 (vol. 31, no. 4)
from 1999 (vol. 78, no. 6)
from 1999 (vol. 78, no. 6)
from 2003 (vol. 82, no. 7)
This selection of advertisements and visual oddities have been selected from across Farrago history, specially curated by our Archive team. Want to see more? UniMelb students can look at older editions online! Check out the Catalogue at https://cat.lib.unimelb.edu.au or browse the Digitised Collections page at https://digitised-collections.unimelb.edu.au/collections/ fa84addf-f621-4739-be9b-4df796257f48
Angela Nacor ‘Dune’
the cost of love:
Owini Wijayasekara
Content Warning: Discussions of sexual assualt and harassment. Spoilers ahead, duh.
It was marketed as a Rom-Com. They said and I blindly hitched my wagon, as I do, because I am Dakota Johnson’s biggest fan. Apparently, my semi-parasocial connection to this woman isn’t enough to make this movie great.
‘ROM-COMS ARE BACK’
In ‘Materialists’, Lucy (Dakota Johnson) is a professional matchmaker, a luxury service wherein she connects people to their perfect matches. The only (predictable) catch? She cannot seem to find a perfect match for herself. Of course, then, when Harry (Pedro Pascal) (predictably) walks into her life, she faces a great (predictable) internal dilemma, grappling extensively (for two scenes) with her own self-consciousness. Not to mention, her (predictable) unresolved feelings for John (Chris Evans), her broke ex, who (predictably) wanders back into her life. Who might she choose…?
She chose John, by the way, which left me contemplating for a while if I was getting too old for romance. Why isn’t love enough? If I veil it with glittery movie magic, it might be – but why must it be? It’s not that interesting, it’s certainly not a story untold. At this point, I have to agree with much of the criticism levied against John’s character: love usually isn’t enough. Lucy even says so in their initial break up many years prior,
And the reality is, nothing has changed for John. He displays no growth, financially or even, at times, in his behaviour. He is still as cranky and standoffish as he used to be and it’s difficult to afford him any grace when Harry foils him so starkly. Harry is handsome, tall, kind, and rich: “A unicorn, an impossible fantasy,” as Lucy calls him. Maybe it’s my own experience (or lack thereof) speaking, but love cannot truly be the greatest decider between the dream guy or the ex. How would that sustain long-term? I have a theory that if he didn’t look like Chris Evans, Lucy wouldn’t consider John at all.
That’s my other complaint—Lucy and John fall back into their places so casually and easily, without properly acknowledging or overcoming their previous issues, like fighting over $25 parking in the middle of the street. I’m curious as to whether their shared idea of a perfect date will be crashing weddings, or if they would, more realistically, want more. The reason for their initial breakup felt lost, swept under the rug. Then suddenly, they’re back together! Like those issues no longer exist. Seriously, someone fifty-shades-free my girl from this reality.
I will, however, concede that the film offers the interesting and insightful prompt of at which age we stop accepting creatives if they are ‘struggling’, and encourage (force) them to get ‘actual’ jobs. John being an unsuccessful actor well into his 30s makes him three-dimensional, interesting, and occasionally inspiring, and I almost wish the central tension had lied in the idea that he was losing his time for longing. Even Lucy had been an actress before becoming a matchmaker, and I think the interactions between the two (and their eventual love story) could have been granted more depth, and certainly more legitimacy, if it had been based on this shared frustration they both had to endure and overcome.
I’m almost certain that I’m overanalysing a movie that was just supposed to be a Rom–Com. But that’s another thing!
“It’s not because we’re not in love! It’s because we’re broke.” This film isn’t actually a
is A24’s latest horror film
The central tension, climaxing in Harry and Lucy’s breakup, wasn’t veiled at all by a comedic disposition. Despite this, it was that scene, the fallout of a relationship and one of the most serious revelations of the film (that Harry had gotten cosmetic height surgery—yes, really) that made my friend and I laugh the hardest. But who could blame us? Hearing Harry say
in response to Lucy’s wanting to breakup still makes me giggle, and better yet, envisioning Harry crouching down asking if he’s still a unicorn is almost too good to be true. What a joke—and I don’t believe it was intentional.
The other most serious revelation, that a client of Lucy’s has been sexually assaulted and further harassed, made for nothing more than a plot device. The seriousness of this harassment was easily overlooked, treated too lightly. It certainly didn’t incite a discussion about the genuine fears shared by women in the dating scene, it didn’t ask for a change from men, and it didn’t question the actual cost of finding love—it literally served as a turning point for two insu!erable characters to get together. It felt disrespectful, honestly, to the testament of the overwhelming number of women who endure assault at the hands of intimate partners. This wasn’t a storyline that deserved to be disregarded as it was.
“I’m having a really hard time believing it’s not about the legs” search for money and security.
‘Materialists’ succeeds in breaking down systematically sca!olded boundaries that have generally been disregarded in Rom-Coms: that people do, in fact,
That is not a crime, in fact, it is justifiable, and women often garner the brunt of attacks for ‘golddigging.’ The issue is that Lucy remains an ‘ideal’ woman because she validates this falsified ‘dream girl’ stereotype, saying, ‘love is enough, actually.’ All this does is diminish her own needs.
Maybe I need to have a greater capacity for romance, but this film isn’t doing much to help me in this regard. I’m not a matchmaker, certainly no master of romance, but when a character turns down a promotion for a man, and that same man proposes with a flower-ring, saying,
“How’d you like to make a terrible financial decision?”
she should probably give the unicorn another chance.
what the people of MELBOURNE are wearing
Sofia Perica
with photography by @goodmusic
are wearing
�alk into any sticky-�oored venue in �elbourne on a Thursday night and you�ll witness something that can never be replicated� the authentic, un�ltered style ecosystem of the city�s gig circuit. �t�s dress code as cultural language, where every accessory choice and fabric decision signals e�actly where you belong. This piece is both a snapshot and a style guide, part observational essay, part breakdown of the subcultural uniforms that dominate these spaces. �rom grunge revivalists to post-punk minimalists, we�re decoding the looks, the meanings, and maybe even how to slip into one yourself.
layered and playful streetwear
Take the girl in the fu��y trapper hat � she�s mastered the �elbourne layering e�uation. � �uirky fur hat that screams �� raided my grandmother�s closet,� oversi�ed glasses that could double as safety goggles, and a colour-blocked graphic tee that�s stylish but simple. �er �eans are loose-�tting and perfectly worn-in, leaning into that carefree, practical vibe essential for dancing in a packed venue where personal space is a myth.
�ut here�s where it gets interesting � accessories, accessories, accessories as far as the eye can see. The studded belt, the chain necklaces, the perfectly imperfect hair spilling out from under that hat.�ach detail isn�t �ust about looking good,it�s about declaring your musical allegiance, your subcultural roots, your place in the scene without saying a word.
vintage aesthetic
�elbourne�s gig-goers understand that getting dressed for a show is performance art. The curly-haired blonde in the leopard print �acket isn�t �ust wearing clothes�she�s inhabiting a character. This city�s music venues are costume parties in disguise, where the line between performer and audience dissolves in the sticky heat of The Tote or �herry �ar. The rule is simple� if you�re not slightly uncomfortable in what you�re wearing, you�re probably not wearing enough. �eathers, se�uins, leather, lace�it�s all fair game.
wearing to gigs
grunge glamour
the garage band look
Notice how the blonde in the white cap layers her basic tee with statement accessories–this is the Melbourne formula. The shirt establishes your credentials; everything else shows your personality. She’s channelling pure vintage gold without a single band tee in sight. That slouchy white top with its relaxed neckline screams borrowed-from-my-boyfriend energy, while the cap adds a touch of 1940s kitchen chic that somehow works perfectly in a 2025 dive bar.
Two women at the venue channel a modern punk aesthetic. One wears a plaid mini skirt, black mesh sleeves, and layered jewellery–including rosaries and chunky rings–giving off a ‘90s grunge revival. In Melbourne’s music scene, accessories are our weaponry: Chunky chains, oversized glasses, statement earrings, and bold lipstick colours function as conversation starters and scene signifiers. The red-haired woman in the polka dot dress understands this: her look is a carefully curated collision of patterns and textures that shouldn’t work but absolutely does.
This is where real fashion intelligence lives. Anyone can buy a band tee, but knowing how to pile on accessories without looking like you raided a costume shop? That’s the art form.
the practical paradox
Here’s what fashion magazines never tell you about gig dressing: it has to be practical. Those cute boots need to survive beer spills and crowd surges. That vintage jacket needs to function in venues where the air conditioning died in 1987. The best gig fashion walks the line between statement-making and survival gear. Notice how everyone in these photos has mastered the art of looking effortlessly cool while being dressed for combat. This isn’t accidental–it’s strategic.
3
1
2
the verdict
Never look like you tried too hard–even if you spent three hours getting ready
Vintage is valuable–but only if it looks accidentally discovered
Comfort is king–but boring is unforgivable
4 Your outfit should tell a story–even if that story is “I don’t care about stories”
When in doubt, add more accessories–the only fashion crime is invisibility.
Melbourne’s gig fashion isn’t about following trends–it’s about creating them in real-time, in real venues, with real people who care more about the music than the mirror. It’s fashion as tribal identification, where our outfit is your ticket to belonging. The best gig fashion looks effortless, but reveals itself as carefully constructed theatre. It’s rebellious enough to feel authentic, but polished enough to photograph well in dim lighting. It’s the art of looking like you just threw something on, while actually curating every detail.
Dom Lepore
WORM
Magandjin’s/Brisbane’s alt-rock quintet Worm Girlz are all about empowerment and fostering community. The femme punk band comprising Jade Montgomery, Angie Gale, Isabella Wood-de-Melo, Lauren Rowe and Nikolai Bray have further channelled their promise for inclusivity with their latest single, ‘Get Ugly’, a powerful and profound anthem about rejecting society’s toxic beauty standards to celebrate authenticity. This cathartic liberation feels equally impactful when listening comfortably in your room or singing along with the band at one of their thrilling, theatrical live shows.
Worm Girlz have been busy advocating their necessary positive values across Australia, notably opening for UK anti-folk band, Crywank, on their recent tour here. Those gigs exposed them to an entirely new and large audience, welcoming more wormz (their fandom’s name) into their fold after being met with rapturous praise. Now, they’re taking ‘Get Ugly’ on the road in their upcoming tour, bringing local luminaries Fvneral, Maybe in May, Creeping Jenny, Blackout Fan Club and Hypoallergenic for the ride. Ahead of the tour, I spoke to Lauren from the band, who kindly took time out of their day to chat in-depth about the meaning of ‘Get Ugly’, the positive responses from audiences and where the “worm” motif comes from.
I first want to ask about the new song ‘Get Ugly’, which is about unapologetically expressing yourself. What was the idea behind it? Lauren: Personally, through COVID and lockdown, I realised for myself that a lot of gendered beauty standards felt like a performance. So, when we were in lockdown, it felt like, “Oh, we don’t really have to perform right now.” It was liberating how comfortable I felt releasing the shame of some of those things, like shaving body hair or not experimenting with the way that you look because of fear of judgment or shame. I know a lot of people around me, and particularly women, have done similar things since that time and the confidence and empowerment you can feel in almost defying those �eauty standards�that feels really good.
We wanted this song to feel like a celebration of yourself, of being out there, of almost taking that judgment of: “You think that I look ugly? Well, great! Rock on. I love being ugly because if me feeling this good is ugly to you, then hell yeah! Then I love being ugly.” So it’s almost trying to reclaim the word a little bit and also letting yourself express yourself in whatever way you feel. We I love that, it draws upon what Worm Girlz is about and what you all stand for. Did the band initially start to put out such messages more?
Lauren: Absolutely. We talked a lot as friends before we formed the band about what music felt good to us and what music we en�oyed� � lot of it had these similar messages that could relate to them� �ecause either they�re re�ecting on e�periences we can relate to, or they had powerful messages about issues that we cared about. A lot of those bands were big inspirations for us, Waxx or Teen Jesus and the Jean Teasers, and even much bigger bands like Paramore.
We love their messages and feel like we, as people, have a lot to say. We’ve been in and around the music industry for a little while now and are seeing a lot of like the good and the ugly of the music industry and societal issues. We’re a group of people who felt like we had very similar cares and wanted to really channel that into our songs and find a community of people who relate and understand, feel the same passion for what we feel passionate about, because we know that we can only get through all these things together. In this time where turmoil and weird things are happening in the world, it’s so necessary to face that adversity head-on. It’s amazing how you’re all doing that, and that we have that in Australia. It must be very fulfilling, but do you ever second-guess yourselves?
Lauren: Sure, like we’re all human. It can be really depressing to be on the internet right now, to see war, to see genocide, and to see so many horrible things happening in the world. You’re seeing rights stripped away from queer people overseas and even here in Australia, with puberty blockers and trans health care being threatened. It can be really easy for all of us to let that weigh on us quite heavily. But I think one of the beautiful things about the band and also the community that we’re fostering around us is that we know that we can come together and just do what we can. We can all only do what we can to put some good in the world and try and undo wrongs.
Although there’s always self-doubt and trying to promote ourselves at a time where it feels like we shouldn’t be taking up media space� it all comes down to how we are all still here and we need community to get through this�to rally action� to actually make an impact. Imposter syndrome can be so real, but we’ve got each other to remind ourselves that we can’t do anything alone. We can only take it one step at a time. That’s why our messages in our music are so important to us because it feels like all we can do to try to make the world a better place. We like to say that our main goal as the band is to “Try to leave the music industry a better place than we found it”, and so far we have really stuck to that. I think the work that we do helps me as a person to process a lot of what’s going on around me.
GIRLZ want you to get ugly, loud and proud
That’s so great. I’m sure the audience response must be amazing too. How has that been?
Lauren: We get great responses often. You mentioned you saw us at the Crywank show, and that was an incredible experience for us because it was one of the biggest audiences that had never heard of us before. We were playing these sold-out shows in larger-scale venues, and a lot of the audience wasn’t there for us. They had their tickets before we were even on the lineup. The response from those audiences was a real reminder that the work that we’re doing does have an impact. Sometimes you get trapped in your own bubble, you worry that people are supporting you because they’re friends and things like that. It was amazing to get feedback on the stories from people who can relate to our music.
We get so many people who come and tell us after our shows which of our songs resonated the most with them and why. Sometimes it’s the really sad songs in which we always think, “I’m so sorry, how are you doing?” But again, we wrote those songs because we felt like we had to, we had to channel that emotion, we had to get it out of us and into the song as a tangible thing, to see how other people connect and how much they also need that release. It’s really touching and goes to show that people are craving community like this. They want to find people who feel the same way, and the internet can make us feel so isolated sometimes. So, the power of the live show and being able to connect with real people in the room is pretty unbeatable. You probably never would’ve expected to have such a rapturous response like that. It’s almost like you’re writing the songs that you need to hear and bringing that to other people. When the band started, did you ever imagine it would ever reach this magnitude?
Lauren: We’ve always dreamed really big, but again, that self-doubt does always creep in. Like a song’s about to come out and we’re like, “Is this actually cringe? Have we written a little diary page and now we’re releasing it, and no one’s going to like it?”
But again, we follow our own advice, and we kill the part of us that cringes, and we just put ourselves out there. I think when you truly believe in what you’re doing and the messages that you’re putting out there and the behaviour that you’re engaging in, the people that you’re working with, it makes all that a lot easier. If I were doing this solo, I don’t think I would be able to put out half the work that we’re all able to do together.
I love the ‘Get Ugly’ music video with the audition scenario and its clown motif; it seems like you were all having so much fun. Who came up with it? Who was involved?
Lauren: It was pretty back-and-forth between a lot of members of the band. The whole music video was very DIY. I directed it, we had our friend Jordie behind the camera filming everything. They’d very much organised a lot of the behind-the-scenes things to make it work. It was definitely a full team affair.
The clown idea came from a few different reasons. One, we just love concepts and dress-ups, and we’ve been waiting for an excuse to be clowns. The tie in to ‘Get Ugly’, we’re feeling quite down about the trans issues overseas and the changes in healthcare here in Queensland, and wanted to make a slight nod to drag queens, drag culture and our trans community. So, in the music video, we really wanted to incorporate as many of our friends and our queer community, but also uplift the trans community to say, “We’re here, we’re strong, you can’t get rid of us.” I feel like it’s not the strongest message in the music video, but I wanted to make that slight nod and include a lot of the trans colours and imagery.
As well, we had our amazing judges on the panel who are both incredible performers in our community. Ms Le Fay and Drag Lord Sev were incredible judges, and they were so much fun to work with. We were thinking of doing just something really silly and fun that we could make to just complement this song, which again, we wanted to feel like a big celebration, although some of the feelings behind the actual lyrical content can be a bit yucky.
I also want to ask about the whole “worm” thing, which I’m sure you get asked about all the time. I think I read somewhere that it came from someone in the group when they were young. What’s the story behind it?
Lauren: The story of how we actually got the name Worm Girlz is really just Angie, who plays bass. Her twin sister loves composting and has referred to herself as “Worm Girl” because of how much she loves composting and worms. When we were trying to come up with band names, she suggested we should be “Worm Girlz”. Angie was like, “No way, we’re not doing that. That’s ridiculous,” and Jane and I were kind of like, “That’s awesome, actually, we really like it!” Because when we thought about it some more, we already knew a lot of what we wanted our messages to be and what our personal values were, therefore what the core values of the band would be.
We were thinking of worms as these super interesting creatures that are kind of seen as gross or feral or grubby, but they’re cool. They’re just little dudes rolling around in the dirt. The more we thought about it, the more we’re like, “Well, we are kind of like grubby little freaks. We’re rough around the edges, we don’t have to be dainty and pretty.” It’s very much like the messages of ‘Get Ugly’. Worms have this reputation of being weird and off-putting, and you know what? Sometimes we do too, so why not lean into it? And challenge that worms can be awesome and really cool, and so can we. The worm puns then just started rolling, and the more we thought about it, the more perfect it became. That’s so good. I love that!
Lauren: It’s the whole getting dirty, grubby, eating dirt, composting, eating up all your scraps… It all works. It’s just like unabashedly being yourself, you know?
Lauren: Exactly. The law writes itself. Just be you, even if you’re a little worm. It’s the whole “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” Like, yeah, we would. You’re one of us, come on, welcome to the compost!
‘Get Ugly’ is out now on all major music platforms. Keep up to date with all things Worm Girlz on Instagram @wormgirlz
Why Small Gigs Will Always Beat Arena Shows (and how
Sofia Perica
Photography by Ashley Syers
one night reminded me why i fell in
love with live music)
when the house lights dim. After a bit of a hiatus from gig-going, I found myself back at the Workers Club, and suddenly, everything
Looking around, I saw it: a real community. Friends laughing, dancing, and singing along like every lyric was written just for them. Strangers smiling at each other over shared verses. People hugging between songs. There’s an unspoken bond between us.ues that hold the real heart of live music. There’s no VIP barrier, no overpriced merch stands the size of a small suburb — just a stage, a crowd, and pure, undiluted connection.
And let’s talk about the talent. There is no difference in quality between the musicians playing these local rooms and the ones headlining festivals. The only real gap is the number of Instagram followers and a bit of radio airtime.
It was the kind of night that reminded me that the local music scene is still alive and breathing. Despite everything the industry has weathered in recent years — the lockdowns, the cancellations, the shifting digital landscape — these artists are still showing up, pouring their hearts out, and giving us all a reason to gather.
Melbourne, especially, is a goldmine. We are so lucky to have homegrown talent that rivals any global act, artists who cut their teeth in beer-stained pubs and tiny rooms but play like they’re already on world stages. It’s the kind of city where musical magic happens on any given night, often just around the corner.
So here’s to the small gigs. To the venues that feel like living rooms, the crowds that feel like family, and the artists who make every chord feel personal. If you’ve taken a step back from the scene, consider this your sign to dive back.
Live from PICA, Fremantle indie quartet Spacey Jane braved the Port-Melbourne iciness to deliver an electric performance to fans in need of a winter warmer.
I’ll admit that I was worried by the sea of phones that appeared in anticipation for the opening song; screens lighting up like glowing periscopes above the bobbing heads. Usually, this would put me off as it signals a crowd checked out of the moment or at least preoccupied to some extent by “The Perfect Shot”. However, I was proven wrong as ‘Through My Teeth’ was sung not only by the band but by every member of the crowd. The devotion was palpable and thankfully, the phones started to disappear.
PICA was filled to the brim and threatening to spill, with my dreams of a second drink or a bathroom break dashed by unending seas of mullets and moustaches. Cheers reverberated through the empty gin fizz can I held for the entire set, an echoing buzz of excitement and bass. There truly was excitement in that crowd, even from where I stood (not so close to the front). Every song’s opening note sparked an eruption of knowing cheers and audible smiles, asserting that Spacey Jane truly knows what their audience wants to hear and delivers
The strobing stage visuals transported me back to the simpler times of mid-2010s vaporwave. I was practically waiting for that Greek statue to start bobbing behind the band, encircled by glitching palm trees. The colours felt warm but appropriately wintry at the same time, flooding PICA with a purple haze. The band’s silhouettes were stark against the background for many of the instrumental interludes, creating a cartoonish vibe (very Guitar
The setlist mixed classic Spacey Jane hits such as ‘Feeding the Family’, ‘Skin’ and ‘Booster Seat’ with tracks from their new record: If That Makes Sense. However, the imbalance between these eras of songs did illuminate the weaknesses of their new album. The golden oldies shone bright in the setlist but tracks from the new record melted quickly from my mind.
spacey jane
Offers something for all you indie boys to scream at
Sabine Pentecost
If That Makes Sense suffers slightly in comparison with some of their earlier work. Of course, a band’s discography shouldn’t be confined to a single sound, but I found that I could sing along to recent releases despite not knowing the lyrics beforehand. ‘Ily the Most’ and ‘Whateverrr’ stayed firmly in the lane of indie pop expectations in a way that I believe songs from Sunlight and Here Comes Everybody subvert to create intimate lyricism that invites listeners in.
Overall, there was little time for chit-chat, with the set just as packed to the brim as the venue. I appreciated the band’s clear attention to song transitions which maintained momentum nicely between songs. This also meant that the groove never stopped on stage, a sweat-slicked Caleb Harper contrasting the chattering teeth of the crowd and the wrath of Melbourne winter. Harper joked that the crowd should layer up using merch.
Any hang-ups I had about the newer tracks from Spacey Jane were evidently not shared by those in my immediate vicinity, with almost every lyric sung flawlessly by devoted fans with their arms around their friends. I could feel the warmth of the community in the venue; the little families of young faces dotted around the mosh. The group directly in from of me really took it to the next level, pumping fists and jumping together on the beat in a joyful mess of limbs. It’s hard not to smile when you see a band’s music have that effect on a crowd and for that, I applaud Spacey Jane.
Wil Simmonds ‘Grace with long hair’
Wil Simmonds ‘Grace with short hair’
Jasmine Pierides ‘Dammi Falastini’
Farrago’s 2025 AFL Recap
against Melbourne, were down 46 points goals as of writing this, speculation on season.
HONOURABLE MENTION
Western Bulldogs
The Doggies deserve recognition for their performance this year. While their weak defence has made them struggle against the top eight teams (pls don’t come for me Beveridge), their ability to bully the rest and approach a hundred points is a
testament to their abilities in fighting back and entertaining viewers.
With many solid teams landing in the top eight, this years’ finals are going to be an interesting one. Will the Pies continue to flop? Will the Crows hang on to their place in the top and win the premiership? Can the Eagles score one more win? Will Blakey and Smith be able to set their differences aside to find true love? This
season flew by, packed with drama and history making games, it’s sad to see its end. But all is not lost with the AFLW season starting on 14 August!
Are Employees Making Too Much Money?
There’s a strange new energy moving through the senior leadership at the University of Melbourne. It’s subtle. Difficult to measure. And yet, the signs are undeniable. Journalists from Farrago set up camp (not literally, calm down) at the University of Melbourne’s Old Quadrangle Building in an attempt to capture this phenomenon first hand.
Within hours, the team observed a series of shocking events: some Academic Service Officers are now eating lunch not at their desks. One junior team member purchased a second pair of shoes. For walking. Recreationally. Not even for an interview. Productivity has dropped by 0.3 per cent this past quarter, a decline experts believe may be linked to an alarming rise in ‘boundaries.’ These include declining meetings scheduled after 6 p.m., asking clarifying questions, and occasionally, horrifyingly, saying ‘no.’
One man in Accounts even had the audacity to describe himself as ‘content.’
He was terminated immediately, per HR policy.
Older generations are watching with concern. ‘Back in my day, we ate drywall and said thank you,’ says Derek, a boomer in Facilities who hasn’t blinked since 1996. ‘You didn’t take sick leave unless you needed a colectomy.’
‘We fought in the war,’ adds Janice from Payroll, referring vaguely to a Q3 restructure in 1987.
The implications are terrifying. If this continues, workplaces may soon be filled with people who are rested, hydrated, and emotionally literate. And then what? Paid mental health days? A functioning HR department? A culture that values humans over productivity reports? It’s a slippery slope.
Experts warn that this shift must be addressed before it spreads. ‘This is how unions start,’ muttered one executive, clutching a copy of The 4-Hour Workweek like a bible. ‘They get a taste of joy, and then they want fairness.’
According to NTEU Branch President
David Gonzalez, the movement toward fairer workplaces is long overdue. ‘Every third student should not be physically assaulted with an eight-metre bat,’ he said, referring to current workloads and support staffing ratios. ‘And yet here we are.’
In response, the University has announced that all hidden cameras in staff kitchens will be removed by the end of the financial year. In their place, a bronze statue of an emeritus professor will be installed outside of the main break rooms. It will play a looped audio message every hour that whispers, ‘be grateful you have a job.’
Staff are encouraged to reflect upon it in silence.
The future of staff and students remains unclear. With casualisation rates soaring, full-time jobs disappearing and wage theft claims returning like salmon to spawn, one thing is certain: employees today have it better than ever.
Aaron Agostini
Spot the difference in the Farrago office
There are at least five differences.
Puzzles
Mini
Sudoku w/ Kropki Dots
By Alice Wallis
ACROSS
1. Places where tea and scones may be served
6. Firie's acronym
9. “If you say so”
10. Narrative bend?
11. Ambulance destination
12. ___ with praise (two balls)
14. Tree with needles
16. Chicken store on Grattan street
17. Waterfall (three balls)
20. Shakespearian “you”
21. Feminine honorific
23. Bubbler in NSW (four balls)
25. Half-human, half-goat
26. Common crossword cookie
27. Like paramedics, but with less quals.
28. “Vivid” state
In addition to normal Sudoku rules: Where a solid dot appears, the numbers in the squares it connects are in a 1:2 ratio.
EG: Where an empty dot appears, the numbers in the squares it connects are consecutive.
EG: 2 4 4 5
FOUR PUZZZLES SERVED FRESH
Trivia
Which acid gives sourgrass its distinctive (sour) taste?
A. Oxalic B. Lactic
C. Citric D. Sulphuric
Old Union House was once the location of which entity?
A. National Museum of Victoria B. Melbourne Mint
C. Parliament D. Australia Post
DOWN
1. Cook
2. Goldfinger's first name
3. Higher quality version of the two radio options
4. Designer's file type
5. “Hush!”
6. Sounded like a crow
7. Besties who are your worsties
8. “Hundred ___ wood”
13. Acting without even thinking about it
15. Snitch on
18. Avoids at all costs
19. Swindle
22. What one hopes for during winter (though we don't get much in Australia)
23. Relatives, briefly
24. Media conglomerate that broadcasts on 3-Down
25. Iron's atomic name
By Sophie He
SET ONE SET TWO
In the hit Australian cartoon series Bluey, which sport does Chilli play?
A. Soccer B. Hockey
C. AFL D. Netball
The paternoster is an obsolete type of which object?
A. Orchestra B. Bible
C. Scarecrow D. Elevator
Which is the largest national park in Australia?
A. Kakadu B. Blue Mountains
C. Munga-Thirri D. Grampians
Which is the odd one out?
A. Orchid B. Daffodil
C. Lilly D. Ivy
Big Crossword
By Tom
ACROSS
1. A party to remember
Sir's counterpart
“On the double”
Two-stringed Chinese instrument
Tehran native
Sicilian volcano
Petri dish gel
Mountain or fingerprint feature
Overnight or rolled
Eastern Australian basin
Leaf under a petal
Reply from sycophant 25. ___ and flow
28. Thyme, for example
Corpse prefix
A measure of velocity 36. Northern Australian gulf 40. “Woe is me” 42. Espresso foam 43. Banjo's bank notes 44. Melbournian river, or suburb
___ behind the ears 48. Shiny balloon material
Santa's laundry nemesis
51. Enzyme suffix, or ocean anagram? 52. Hoppy brew, abbr.
Gourmand or diner
Tributary of Little Plains River 64. Cowboy boot attachment
Kiosk, or to impede 67. Humble reply to a compliment 68. One-eyed Norse sage 69. Like a shrinking violet 70. Stalk under 23-Across 71. Prohibits
72. Mise en ___ 73. Tiny arachnid with impressive strength?
DOWN
1. Grins from ear to ear
2. Engage in a shouting match
3. Clever, or flat's counterpart
4. “Jolly good show”
5. Like Shrek's home
6. Saharan
7. Anti-establishment art movement
8. Driven up the wall
9. German appliance brand
10. Long, long time
11. Theatre technician
12. Crumb carrier
13. ___ de deux
21. Smart ___
22. Fails to be
26. Bath for olives
27. Toot one's own horn
29. Risque and ribald
30. “It's c-c-c-cold”
32. “I could ___ a horse”
34. Hamlet and Macbeth, for example
35. Pantomime joker
37. Mightier than the sword
38. My Chemical Romance fans
39. Prefix meaning “one billionth”
41. “Chandelier” singer
45. Bloomy rind cheese
46. Attendee
50. Lao Tzu's philosophy
53. Cockroaches and cane toads, for example
54. Shenanigan
56. ___ Frutti
57. White heron
58. Ample, for example?
60. Crematory vessels
61. Cut from the ___ cloth
62. Russian pancake
63. Ye ___ Shoppe
64. Bawl and weep
65. “Get a room” elicitor, abbr. HAVE A SUGGESTION?
