Verse Magazine Edition 25

FREE Edition 25 | October - November 2018 Your Student Mag

This Edition Masks Songs to Hustle To Bereft The Power of a Pair of Hands

Contents Edition 25 | October - November 2018

02 Editor’s Letter 04 Masks 05 Thrown into Reality 06 Attention 08 Falling and Blooming 09 Fine 10 No Need for Live Animal Export Trade 12 In Love with Sadness 13 Storybook 14 Songs to Hustle To 16 In[ter]view: Jindou Lee 24 Imag[in]e: Sash Corowa 34 To Anyone 35 Bereft 38 Cardiomyopathy 39 What I Wish He Said 40 VOX 42 Eternity Inside the Pages 43 USASA Advocacy 45 The Power of a Pair of Hands 50 Playlist of You 52 USASA Calendar 53 President's Letter

Cover Image Morgan Todonai

Above Image Sash Corowa

56 Indian Students Assembly of South Australia 58 No is a Sentence 59 Masterpiece 60 Review: Hot Sauces 62 The Signs As: Card Games

Verse Magazine is brought to you by

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Editor's Letter Head Editor | Jesse Neill

All I can say is thank you.

Thank you to the incredible team at Verse who have helped to put this amazing magazine together throughout the year.

Thank you to our readers, for embracing the unique, heartfelt stories of our diverse and passionate students.

Most of all, thank you to our brave and honest contributors who continue to inspire. Your words have truly moved us.

We hope that in publishing your thoughts and ideas, Verse can play a small part in shifting perspectives and coming to a greater level of understanding between each other and ourselves.

Ultimately, sharing stories is part of what it means to be human and this is what Verse does best; communicate individual’s ideas and opinions in a way that is inclusive and relatable.

No one can ever take that story away from us.

The Verse Magazine team acknowledges and pays respect to the Kaurna, Boandik and Barngarla peoples as the traditional custodians of the lands that UniSA campuses are built on.

We recognise and respect their cultural heritage, beliefs and relationship with the land and acknowledge that they are of continuing importance to those people living today.

Head Editor Jesse Neill | Editor Simon-Peter Telford | Communications Editor Georgia Lake Graphic Designer Sascha Tan | Printer Newstyle Print | Design & Production Consultant Jackson Polley The views expressed in this magazine are not necessarily representative of the views of USASA or the editors.

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Edition 25 Contributors Dear students of UniSA, we sincerely thank you! Thank you all so very much for helping put your magazine together!

Below are the names of this edition's written and visual student contributors.

We want to add you to the contributors list!

Students are the backbone of this magazine and it doesn't run without your valuable input. Send through written or visual work that you want to show off! With open arms we accept all student work; written, drawn, typed, recorded or scrawled, you name it - we want it!

Submit using the online form at:

VerseMag.com.au/Submit Jesse Neill @jesse_neill Simon-Peter Telford @s.z.telford Sascha Tan @saschatan Georgia Lake @georgialakee Darcy Nitschke Grace Plunkett @gracellenart Dana Parisotto @danaparis_ Morgan Todonai @morgantodonai_art_design Diana Szabo @henrywhistlethwaite Erin Stubbs @erin_taylah Jake Warming @the_elephant_and_the_meerkat Christina Gibson Michelle Foo @chromamelon JayJay Githinji Chandler Saing @cm_lynarc Isabelle Richardson @femiinii Jindou Lee Sash Corowa @dcinoot Duyen Huynh @itzviah Christina Moore Maria Dizazzo @maria.makesthings Alissa Yeo @alissayeooo Mateusz Kryszkiewicz @addiction_into_the_now Carolyn Booth @caroisangry Lauren Rawlings @laurenkathleen_ Jaiimeeta Magandram @jaiimeeta Nelya Valamanesh @nelyavalamanesh Nadir Obeid Khaliah Marro Annabel Bowles Poppy Fitzpatrick @poppyfitzpatrick Eddie McCarroll @retrograded__ Sarah Burton @artbysarahcaitlyx Jordan Mumford Will Adams David Hood

Specifications for written work: We are looking for short articles 600-1200 words and longer articles 1200-2400. Articles can be on any topic but we especially love opinion pieces!

Specifications for artwork: Send us images at the highest resolution you can (300 DPI or larger in .jpeg, .tiff or .pdf file format). We love all visual styles and mediums.

@versemagadelaide @versemagazine @versemag_adl

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Masks

Words by Darcy Nitschke Illustration by Grace Plunkett

I only cry, when the rain blends with my tears as I am reminded of everything I have ever done wrong.

I wear baggy clothes so I don’t have to confront the truth. I am reminded of everything wrong with me.

I avoid the mirror because the minutes of trying to find the best angle, contorting my body, sucking in my cheeks, leaves my ego shattered and deflated. I am reminded of everything I have ever done wrong.

I never stop moving, never stop talking, never stop doing because the silence speaks – of everything I have ever done wrong.

I drown my thoughts with music because the voices are too loud, screaming everything I have ever done wrong.

I fear going to sleep, my brain is too loud, the darkness reminds me of everything I have ever done wrong.

I tell everyone that I’m good, everyone says I am a happy person. The mask shrouds it all. If only they knew everything I’d done wrong.

Everyday, people wake up, press snooze on their alarm, roll out of bed and put on their clothes.

But the most tragic and ineffably ghastly thing they need to dress is their soul. In an attempt to navigate a world of categorisation and pathologizing, would you not want to wear a mask? Is a self-inflicted mask not better than a forcefully induced label?

The society in which we find ourselves in during 2018 is still in need of drastic change. I want to feel. Rather, I want to feel allowed to feel.

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I want to be able to express, to understand my emotions, and to be able to say I am a depressed person – and not be treated as a flaky, unstable being. Life’s biggest illusion is that your experience isn’t significant enough to be validated. We all struggle. We all want to cry.

We all experience hard days. So why is it that we still face a stigmatic beast which is as large and looming as an unscalable mountain? Why is it that we still see over 3000 people (just within Australia) take their lives each year? A person, a soul, a mother, a brother, a father, a sister, a son, a daughter, a love, is ripped from the world once every three hours. The only way to describe it realistically, is fucked. That the people closest to us can feel so alienated – trapped within their own masks and their own illness that they don’t feel worthy of living, of receiving help, of being happy – is fucked.

“Life’s biggest illusion is that your experience isn’t significant enough to be validated” So, to all the brothers and sisters we have lost to suicide: We miss you and we love you. We will never forget you. And we will forever be fighting to lose the chains of irreplaceable loss that is amassed from suicide. ◊

Thrown into Reality My mind became foggy, Yet I saw utter clarity.

The woes of tomorrow - not as scary.

The sky turns to a honeycomb hue, The clouds melting away.

I face reality, Yet I am dreaming?

My path, once unknown, Is clear as day.

Can you feel mother-earth move?

Can you feel her breathe?

You should.

She envelops us in a bubble of juvenility, Until we are ready to experience.

Experience the purity of divine reality.

She gives so much, We are so unaware.

To open our minds, Accepting our reality for what it can truly be.

Words by Dana Parisotto Illustration by Morgan Todonai

Attention “Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” ~ Simone Weil Words and image by Diana Szabo

I’m going to talk about something going on placement highlighted for me, and that I see as symptomatic of a more general trend that exists in society, and that is the lack of attention.

Paying attention is extremely important, yet is so often seen as dispensable, or even a chore.

You see the lack of attention everywhere – in lectures, in class, in the street, at the shop, and in conversations, when the person messaging you is suddenly infinitely more interesting than the real person sitting before you. It’s even built into our language: you ‘pay’ attention, because it’s valuable, like money. The things you pay attention to eventually grow. The things you don’t pay attention to eventually wither.

If you don’t pay attention in class, your grades will suffer, you won’t learn, and you’ll waste your time. If you don’t pay attention to people when they talk to you, your relationships with them will suffer. Attention paid or not paid to infants determines whether they develop Narcissistic Personality Disorder in later life. Everyone, whether they admit it or not, craves attention. We need attention to stay healthy; as social animals it’s biological. Social media is an economy built almost entirely on attention.

On placement I found that staff were keen to get exams done and didn’t really engage with patients on a personal level. I made a special effort to engage with them, because I know what it is like to be ignored or treated badly by professionals and I don’t want to subject others to that. I put myself in the patient’s shoes, because I acknowledge that they could be me – in

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fact, probably will be me in the future. I will be the old person being wheeled in to the x-ray room with pneumonia; fragile, on the brink of death, completely dependent on the attention and competence of the young people there.

The fundamental character and aim of health practice is service. We are there to serve sick people. We’re not there to take out our personal psychological problems on them, or our colleagues, and yet this is so often what happens. I saw this on placement, and I see it all the time. I always wonder what people would rather be doing instead of being present and paying attention. Often they’d rather be somewhere else – on a tropical island, having a nice meal, or driving a nice car. What they don’t realise is that enjoying any of these activities requires that they pay attention to them. Doing anything well requires paying attention to.

The power of attention is evidenced by the success of the Mindfulness movement, which gained momentum in the West in the 1970s, when Jon Kabat-Zinn started the Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction program at the University of Massachusetts Medical School. The program has been highly successful and recent research shows that meditation improves attention. The power of attention has been known in the East for thousands of years, yet it's only now that the West is beginning to appreciate its power.

There is a very important and interesting philosophical distinction that I learned about years ago, and it describes the fundamental attitude that I think can transform our practice and our culture. It goes by different names, but in essence it’s really very simple. It is two different ways of relating to things or people.

One way is the instrumental way, the other is the contemplative way. The philosopher Martin Buber called it the I-It and I-Thou distinction; in psychology there is intrinsic vs extrinsic motivation; Immanuel Kant referred to it as “seeing things as ends in themselves, rather than merely as a means”, and other philosophers call it the disinterested vs the interested relation to things. So for example, imagine you go to a gallery to see a painting. The first way of looking at this painting is the I-Thou way, which means you contemplate the painting, you appreciate it for its qualities, you admire it, it raises further questions in your mind, you behold it; you’re glad that it exists. You’ve had an experience with it that you haven’t had before, even with other paintings. The other way of looking at this painting is the I-It way, which is looking at it instrumentally, as an object. You might think “If I buy this painting today, how much can I sell it for in 5 years’ time?” You don’t care about the individual painting – all you are interested in is what you can get out of it. You might argue that being delighted by a painting, as in the first approach, you are still “getting something out of it”. This is true, but you’re getting something out of it in a way that doesn’t ignore the individuality of the painting – the attributes that make it unique and unlike any other painting in the world. It’s no longer fungible, like money: fungibility means my $5 note is the same as your $5 note; there is no practical difference between them. Not so with paintings, or with people.

I would encourage anyone to cultivate the I-Thou relation to things over the I-It. It can be applied to your relation with anything: a piece of music, a pet, a city, nature itself. It most definitely applies to patients. Rather than seeing patients as a nuisance, a source of money, things that interrupt your lunch break, a faceless throng – see them as individuals. Even if a person strikes you as particularly boring, just imagine that they’re not. Sometimes just positing this belief changes something in them, such that they do become interesting. They suddenly see that it’s okay to be themselves, however they are. I’ve seen this every time I give my undivided and judgementfree attention to someone. Thankfully, this is an ability that can be cultivated by anyone.

I used to work with and he highlighted an apparent conflict in clinical work, which is the one between clinical proficiency on the one hand, and compassion and empathy on the other. He pointed out that sometimes, in trying to remain compassionate, you fail to do your job in some way. Indeed, one area in which I struggle is where I allow the needs of individual patients to conflict, e.g. in allowing a patient to talk - which I do because maybe no-one has listened to them for a long time - it means the next patient, who is waiting, is made to wait longer. So in my aim to be compassionate to one person, I have done a disservice to another.

“Every tiny thing you do counts, no matter how inconsequential you think it is” So there is a fine line here, and the key is judicious application. In Virtue Ethics, this is called practical wisdom, or phronesis in Greek (it’s Greek because Aristotle invented it).

Basically it means knowing what to do, when to do it, and how to approach it. This can be mastered through practice, but even then you’ll sometimes miss the mark (which is fine, because that’s how you learn). The solution is to maintain one’s boundaries and communicate them in a tactful and understanding manner. Remaining patient-centred, you judge, based on the individual situation, when to stop the conversation and call the next patient in, or leave the room to set up the console or whatever you need to do.

Every tiny thing you do counts, no matter how inconsequential you think it is. Those few extra seconds of attention you pay someone – a patient, a colleague, a stranger – matter, and will make a difference to them, and everyone else they encounter. Positive acts beget positive acts, like ripples fanning out in a pond. The same goes for negative acts. In this way you can control, to quite a significant degree, how the world goes.

It’s great that you don’t have to go anywhere, do anything, buy anything or be born into a privileged class to ‘acquire’ attention. You already possess it. It’s a matter of how you spend it. ◊

However, it’s not just paying attention that is required of us. It’s also knowing when and how to pay attention. I interviewed one of the dentists

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Summer The sun smiles at its sparkling reflection In the dew on my leaves.

A warm breeze flows between my branches, And I hold the girl Small, smiling and giggling.

In tiny hands she cradles my flower, A vision as lovely, As beautiful and potential as she.

Autumn Hidden behind changing leaves and drooping flowers, Unknown to the rest of the world, Her eyes are lost in his.

Fingers intertwined, A flower blooms out of season.

They carve their names in my skin and We are all changed.

It is no longer the girl and I. Winter I shiver, frost suffocating my naked branches.

Rotting flowers and leaves dot the ground, Like fallen tears, Mourning for stolen life.

She holds her child as I hold her, Grief twists his face and wracks his chest, Bleeds her heart until it’s numb.

A cold band and an etched name tie her to a ghost Spring New life unfurls.

My flowers awaken, and fresh leaves stretch towards the sky.

I hold a different child, Who smiles like her and laughs like her son.

Her past and present collide.

An ending and a beginning.

Teary, she plucks my newly bloomed flower, Tucks it behind the child’s ear and smiles.

Summer Time holds her to the ground, Seeking shelter from the burning sun in the shade of my leaves.

Wrinkled fingers run across the names in my skin, Heart aching only a little.

She marvels at an old, broken flower, Marked by time but undeniably wonderful.

Between my branches she sees her life, In her I see everything.

Words by Erin Stubbs Image by Jake Warming

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Fine Words by Simon-Peter Telford

If I were to say that I was fine, would I be lying?

Do I have the right to ask such a question? Poor suffering wretch. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, a ringing in my ears. Would I be lying? No, maybe. If fine is a painting, than am I the canvas?

Colours and pretty shapes, seductive lines and elegant curves cover me and work their wonders.

Expensive cocktails and stylish clothing, pearly white teeth and a proper haircut.

An idolised image of what I try to be constantly pulls at the corner of my eye, a twitch I wouldn’t trade for the world. The pleasure of walking across hot coals or the self-immolation that I hold so dear to my cigarette stained heart. I’m better than fine. Fine is an insult. A middle-aged man’s compliment to a piece of ass.

“An idolise image of what I try to be constantly pulls at the corner of my eye, a twitch I wouldn’t trade for the world” At what point does it become masturbation to degrade oneself for feeling degraded in this snow globe of sculptures and advertisement?

Are you fine? I don’t care. And I don’t mean that in a prickish wankerism of it all but in an honest, stripped down and naked confession of a toddler being sprayed with a garden hose. Just tell me you’re fine and I’ll smile and say, “that’s good”, after all it’s all I expect in return.

The window cleaner from the outside is trying so fucking hard to wipe away that smudge, that streak, that imperfection that just won’t come off. I can see the sweat on his brow from here and I can’t help but sneer at his work. Reflections can do strange things to contort the face. My, oh, so, beautiful face. Can’t you see it? Can’t I see yours? Isn’t that what we are here for on this concrete coloured stage of flashing lights and filed nails.

No, I don’t mean this stage. This corner of truth we allow ourselves, this clasping of hands through the greasy sludge of hinges meant to keep the door swinging. Not this stage.

You know, I suppose I am fine. Lucky I’m told. What other choice is there?

I’m fine, you’re fine. We are all just so fucking fine, all together… aren’t we? ◊

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The Australian economy has no need for live animal export trade Words by Christina Gibson | Image by Michelle Foo

You don’t have to be an animal activist to be an animal lover.

For this reason, Australians should not antagonise farmers.

You don’t have to be an activist to understand that the live animal export trade is ethically wrong and inflicts unnecessary pain on animals.

Exporters should be reprimanded by the Government for animal cruelty, although Australia’s legislation has fundamentally allowed the live export trade to survive.

We’ve all heard the age-old debate continuously making news headlines: “Is Australia’s live animal export trade truly necessary?”.

While there are excellent arguments for exports building Australia’s economy, the reality is animal exports harm animals and the environment, and are completely unnecessary in the grand scheme of Australia’s economy.

The live export trade, however big it may seem, only accounts for 0.4 per cent of Australia’s exports, generating $1.8 billion last year according to Australian Livestock Exports.

If Australia chose to process meat domestically, the RSPCA says it would generate 20 per cent more profit than exports.

That means more jobs, but not at the cost of defenceless animals.

Live animal exports are also taxing Australia’s environment: one of the top 40 carbon emitters in Australia was the live animal export trade, according to research conducted by PETA in 2013.

The lengthy journey live export animals make travelling internationally on boats cause pollution in the air as well as the sea.

The ocean’s ecosystem is worsening due to raw sewage from the exported animals’ boat being pumped into the water, which is causing a deterioration of fish species and water quality.

This means live exports do not just affect exported cattle, but also Australia’s marine life.

“If Australia chose to process meat domestically, the RSPCA says it would generate 20 per cent more profit than exports” Leave a cat or dog in a hot car and you could be charged with animal cruelty and pay a fine or be jailed, yet exported animals are placed in these exact same conditions and it is overlooked.

Legal Counsel at Voiceless (an animal protection institute) Sarah Margo says farmed animals aren’t protected under Australian law or countries accepting Australia’s imports, who (in most cases) have no animal welfare laws at all.

“Ultimately, the law defines acceptable treatment of animals according to their ‘use’ rather than their capacity to suffer. This enshrines an unfortunate double standard, whereby farmed animals have very few protections.”

Knowing this information, you may think to yourself, how can the Government continue to allow this trade?

But that’s just it – the Government is sweeping the issue under the rug like it does not exist.

Australians, let’s end the ‘no fear, no pain’ mantra driving the live animal export trade.

We all know live exports scare animals and causes pain. ◊

These live export complications are not the fault of Australian farmers – let’s be clear on that.

Farmers love and care for their livestock and should not be blamed for the actions of thirdparty exporters.

Exporters do not comply with ethical animal handling guidelines and are the result of the dangerous and cruel conditions we hear about on the news that live export animals are being forced into.

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In Love with Sadness Words by JayJay Githinji Illustration by Chandler Saing

I’m not sure how many people know how much sadness can be addictive. It can be addictive to the point where you look for something to bring you down just to feel the satisfying kick of sadness as you silently sob in the bathroom during a gathering or scream into your pillow at night. Iʼve been in love with her, Sadness, she was quite the passionate lover. Her love was as electric as the euphoria you get from snorting a line of coke. She never left me, I would come home to her eager, comforting arms. The tears that flowed endlessly down my cheeks were the pillar of our affair, the dread to wake up and face the world was the structure of our intertwined souls and the constant facade of “smile and pretend you’re ok” the foundation of our ever-growing love.

She was such a mysterious mistress, always creeping up on me in public places to take me away on a secret rendezvous in the bathroom stalls. She was insatiable, youʼd find her on your bed, couch, kitchen, phone, shower, always ready for the taking, eager to receive your passionate misery and self-pity. Just like any lover, she burned green with jealousy anytime Iʼd wander off. I was never faithful to her, that I admit.

I always sneaked away to meet him; Happiness. He was handsome, free-willing and rewarding. He brought peace, fulfilment and best of all freedom to my life.

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But after an hour or two, sometimes a day and when I was lucky, a week of fooling around with him, Sadness would always be in my ear letting me know that I can have a taste of the forbidden fruit as much as Iʼd like – but Iʼm forever chained to her.

She was the dominant and I was the submissive. She was my Christian and I was her Anastasia. Thatʼs how Iʼd describe my time with her, completely enthralling but otherwise destructive. We were on and off, but she had me coiled around her perfectly manicured hand like an alcoholic to his glass of whiskey.

So yes, sadness can be addictive, depression can be comfortable, low self-esteem can be comforting, anxiety can be familiar. It is a shitty life but sometimes we donʼt know better and at times we do.

Itʼs never that easy to walk away. Self-pity is a deep abyss to climb out from, deeper than a grave.

Comparison is a drug more disastrous than heroine.

Self-loathing is as bittersweet as downing tequila shots. They come together in a perfectly wrapped package like those that lie under the Christmas tree after Santaʼs visit. As much as ego, pride and narcissism make one selfish and self-absorbed, so do all of these. In the midst of their spell, all you see is how everyone and everything affects you. ◊

Words by Isabelle Richardson

I haven’t learnt much never had a brain for retaining everything fades soon enough but I know two things: everything crumbles if you look at it for too long and we were never meant for here, these intertwined hands were never meant for anything more than desperate clutching.

We were not designed for gentleness not us either dead or storybook villains confused and angry, or lost and helpless.

I will say they’re not entirely wrong, I have spent half of this life aching for more aching for comfort unsure where I am supposed to fit into this world when none of the holes seem to fit me, none made for this body that yearns more for the girl who ignores her than the boy who won’t stop speaking.

So I only grant myself the privilege of looking at you when you are looking away afraid of what you might see if you look back afraid I might crumble if your eyes linger too long on the pores in my skin that’s what these queer bodies are built for; love and tragedy, the gentle silencing of falling in love just long enough to get comfortable before one of you is tugged away.

We are more beautiful falling apart than we are falling together.

But still, I am sorry to god and to all of the writers who need me dead for their art, but when she asks if I can stay, all I can respond with is ‘yes please’, and when she looks at me I hesitate but I always look back I always look back.

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SONGS TO

HUSTLE TO Find our playlists: @VerseMag on Spotify!

Words and Illustration by Sascha Tan

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02

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FEELING GOOD

BUBBLIN

TRIBE

NINA SIMONE

ANDERSON .PAAK

BAS feat. J. COLE

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05

06

NOT GIVE A F**K

POTHOLDERZ

JUST WATCH ME

FABOLOUS

COUNT BASS D

KELVYN COLT

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08

09

BAD GIRLS

DAY 1

LANDSLIDE

M.I.A

TA-KU

JIMI TENTS

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12

151 RUM

BEAT TAKE 1

TOOTHACHE

J.I.D

THE NEIGHBOURHOOD feat.

TOPAZ JONES

GHOSTFACE KILLAH

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GODBODY

INTERMISSION II

TUNNEL VISION

JOEY PURP feat. RZA

NAJI

DABRYE feat.

GUILTY SIMPSON

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In[ter]view: Jindou Lee Interview conducted by Jesse Neill Images supplied by Jindou Lee

In Verse’s last In[ter]view of the year Jesse Neill speaks with Jindou Lee, CEO and founder of HappyCo, a software development company that helps automate property operations.

Beginning in 2011, Jindou developed Happy

Inspector, an iOS app aimed at addressing the lack of standardised documentation in property inspections. After moving to Silicon Valley in 2012 following the success of Happy Inspector, Jindou and his team developed Happy Manage and Happy Insights, forming the umbrella company HappyCo in 2015. Jindou discusses the unexpected success of Happy Investor and his move to Silicon Valley, as well as ways of encouraging young entrepreneurs to stay in Adelaide to boost innovation in this exciting but overlooked city.

How did the idea for your app first come about and did you expect it to grow as fast as it did?

It was a problem I experienced myself first hand as a real estate investor. Many processes in real estate are still solved with pen and paper; one of those processes is the inspection of real estate. For the most part, that is largely a manual process. When my co-founder, Andrew Mackenzie-Ross and I built the first version of our app, we were just trying to solve my problem. Turns out, there are over 100 million properties in the world that want the same solution.

I never had any grand plans to be a great success or create a company. So, I guess our success has been surprising to say the least.

What did you do prior to developing Happy Inspector and is this what you were originally intending on pursuing when studying your Bachelor of Design?

I've a done bunch of things. After design school I worked for a number of web design agencies, then worked in video games for a number of years. I've also tried a bunch of different small businesses on

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the side before finally starting my own digital agency, which I sold prior to investing in real estate.

What’s been your greatest challenge since graduating?

Having to understand that it takes time to get good at your craft and that any type of success takes time. So, learning to be patient and persevere.

“However, in hindsight, we had to make some very big sacrifices; leaving family, friends and a comfortable life in Adelaide behind” You moved to Silicon Valley not long after launching Happy Inspector. I can imagine that would’ve been a little bit daunting, how did you find the move and is it what you expected?

I had no real expectations except that I felt it was the right thing to do as our biggest market was in the US and I wanted to be closer to our customers. I was so focused on trying to make it work that I did not really think about anything

else. So, it was a very straightforward decision.

However, in hindsight, we had to make some very big sacrifices; leaving family, friends and a comfortable life in Adelaide behind.

The main criticism of Silicon Valley is its lack of diversity and favouritism towards Ivy League graduates, how did you personally find this as an outsider coming from Australia?

I do think that biases exist. It's not exclusive to Silicon Valley though. I'm not too phased by it and I did not pay too much attention to that side of things. I decided early on that I did not want to make excuses for my failures. So, I just kept my head down and worked on the business.

After seeing success with HappyCo internationally, why did you want to keep an office in Adelaide?

Lots of reason. There are a number of great universities in Adelaide, a lot of amazing talent, and many expats that want to move back for family and lifestyle reasons. And we hope to give back to Adelaide by creating a world class company, hiring world class talent to service a global audience. So, we decided to keep our Research and Development team in Adelaide.

“There are a number of great universities in Adelaide, a lot of amazing talent and many expats that want to move back for family and lifestyle reasons�

Over the past decade, we’ve seen more and more of our graduates moving away from Adelaide towards Melbourne, Sydney, and even overseas.

How do you think we can keep more young and talented entrepreneurs like yourself in Adelaide?

It's going to be very difficult. There are just not enough jobs or great companies to join. One way to fix this would be to share more success stories of companies that are growing in Adelaide.

We need to celebrate all types of these amazing stories, no matter how big or small. That way, success breeds success.

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Do you think Adelaide is keeping up with the rest of Australia and the global community in terms of tech development, and if not why?

Nope. Even though I do think there is growth in the ecosystem, I don't think that the speed of growth is comparable to other cities in Australia and overseas. I rarely see Adelaide entrepreneurs that have the drive and global perspective that their peers in other cities may have. As a city, we are also pretty negative in terms of attitude and that culture really hurts our economy.

I imagine your line of work can be very demanding. As students’ mental and physical wellbeing is becoming more and more of a focus on campus, what sorts of things do you like to do to relax and what motivates you to keep going?

It's very important to listen to your body. Slow down to understand yourself. Some people meditate to do this or spend time with nature. For myself,

What is your future vision for HappyCo? We have such a big problem to solve and a lot of room to grow the company. The future is really just more of the same. I would love to build one of the best companies for people to come work for and solve big problems in the real estate industry.

“Aim high. Then aim higher. Then triple that vision you have for yourself. And when you get there, stay humble and hungry for more” Finally, what message do you have for students with aspirations such as yours?

Aim high. Then aim higher. Then triple that vision you have for yourself. And when you get there, stay humble and hungry for more. ◊

I'm good at listening to my body and emotional state and I play soccer to relax.

What’s been the most rewarding part of your time growing HappyCo to what it is today?

I feel very fortunate to be in the position I am in today. Besides a lot of hard work, I know that it's also been a combination of good fortune and people that have supported me along the way from my wife, investors, employees, my co-founder Andrew, advisors, and my peers. So, every day I am grateful and excited to do more.

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Free, confidential & independent advice

The USASA Academic Advocacy service provides free & confidential advice on a wide range of academic troubles. Advocates help you to pursue your rights & can increase your chances of receiving a positive outcome to academic issues.

To book an appointment visit USASA.sa.edu.au/Advocacy

A little money for your big ideas!

Have an exciting idea for your club or campus that needs a kick-start?

Apply for grants ranging from $500 - $2,500 each month.

Find out how to apply at USASA.sa.edu.au/Grants

Imag[in]e: Sash Corowa Verse Mag's regular student Art & Design feature

Interview conducted by Sascha Tan Photography by Sash Corowa

For our final edition of Imag[in]e this year, Verse designer Sascha Tan spoke with final year visual communications student and illustrator Sash Corowa, about the delight of drawing food, his dreams of creating a webcomic series and how speed painting led him to pursue illustration.

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You've contributed to Verse a number of times before, it's great to finally find out about the person behind these illustrations! How would you describe yourself and your work?

Oh god, starting with the hardest question. I think I’m both incredibly lazy, but also super productive. I’ll procrastinate working on something for days, and then turn around and work on it for 8 hours straight. I think this is reflected in everything in my life as well. I’ll become obsessed with something for days, spending all my time and energy on it, and then suddenly lose all interest and never touch it again.

To go with this, my current work is pretty whimsical and cartoony. I like to keep my drawings simple and clean, so that I can complete them before I grow bored of them. Seriously the amount of half completed projects that I have just sitting on my computer is criminal.

What drove you to start drawing?

During high school, a group of friends and I visited a career expo. One of the booths had a drawing tablet set up, and this lady was giving a demo of some speed painting. Inspired, a couple of us purchased tablets for ourselves, and then proceeded to produce the worst work you can imagine, because we had never drawn seriously before. I thought it was fun, so I just kept doing it and never really stopped.

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Tell us about your creative process and how your ideas transform into these illustrations.

It’s a really standard approach honestly. I either have a cool idea in my mind, or project brief to work from, and then I just doodle and sketch, trying out variations and developing aspects that I think work well. I’ll do this until I end up with a design that I both like and think fits the brief well. Then I just follow that idea and render it into a final illustration. Like I was saying, I’m all about finishing things quickly, so I’ve really streamlined my process over the years.

Do you feel like you have a personal connection to your character designs? Which of them would you like to come to life?

I don’t and I wish I did. I think developing characters to such a level takes a lot of time and that’s not something that I’ve been able to do yet. However, other people really connect with my characters. I love hearing about the personalities and backstories that people imagine them having.

I’m always surprised as well, it’s never anything I would expect.

I stalked your socials for a bit (not sorry, they're great) and I noticed you've also been drawing food for a while. Food always looks so good illustrated, so tell me, do you draw these when you're hungry?

Isn’t food just the greatest? While I’m not normally hungry when I start drawing food, I’m always hungry by the end of it. Seriously, my bank account has taken a hit since I got into drawing food, but I have no plans to stop. It’s both fun and delicious.

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Which other creatives out there do you look up to?

This is a tricky one. I draw my inspirations from all over the place. Sure I’ll have artists that I really admire for a time - currently Zedig, his work is so characterful and charming - but looking through my inspiration folder on my computer, it’s a lot of random images that I’ve stumbled upon over the years. Same goes for people, I admire certain aspects about a lot of different people.

Some professionally, but mostly peers, mentors, family and so on.

If I had to name one person who’s had the most influence though, I’d have to say CGP Grey. Just listening to that guy talk about his work methods has really helped me improve my own over the years.

Tell us about a dream project you'd love to work on.

I’d really love to develop a webcomic series one day. Some crazy fantasy adventure series with overblown fights and quirky characters. Here’s the catch though. I can’t stand writing, and I don’t enjoy drawing comics. So I don’t know how exactly this would happen, but maybe one day.

Either that or a video game. For real, if anyone is interested in making a game with me, drop me an email.

What's next for you?

After (hopefully) surviving this semester… who knows, certainly not me, that’s for sure. I’m really playing this whole thing by ear to be frank.

Maybe it’s freelance work, maybe it’s working in a studio, maybe it’s not even related to drawing. I don’t know what the coming years hold for me, but I’m excited nonetheless. ◊

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To Anyone

Words by Duyen Huynh | Illustration by Sascha Tan

Yesterday, my friend told me she received a full scholarship from Stanford – her ultimate goal is accomplished. Having heard that from her, I died a little inside. Believe me, I love her with all my heart and I am truly happy for her; but alongside crying for myself.

You are amazing! You are worthwhile and you are the best version of yourself that you can be. Yes, some days you feel as though you are worthless and unrelated to the rest of the successful people out there. Yes, it is not a very pleasant feeling to carry days over days.

Have you ever caught yourself setting a schedule for your life? Setting up all the goals and deadlines which you expect yourself to achieve within a specific period of time?

That’s why darling, I need you to know that this world will offer you better than you thought it would. I also want you to start loving yourself better than you thought you could. I hope you would start accepting your imperfections as they are a part of you, and they are beautiful too. I would like to hug you and say that you’ve done well, that everyone’s got their own “schedule” and that you are also on your way to accomplishing, but I couldn’t.

So I will have to relay that honour to you, please pat yourself on the back and thank yourself for the amazing experience, also for the promising journey ahead.

“To be independent by 18 years old.”

“To be successful by 25 years old.”

“To build recognition for yourself by age 28.”

These timeframes I set for myself, yet I find myself drifting into disappointment by the feeling of not accomplishing them, or not achieving them on time.

Then I caught people around me doing the same.

They compare themselves to people who they look up to, just like I did, just like you did. Then find ourselves not as good as we thought we would be, like all of us did, at least once or twice.

If you can relate to what I say, please take a deep breath and please listen to what I have to say.

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Lastly, I would like to share one of the quotes that I keep in the back of my mind all the time “Don’t compare your backstage with someone else’s highlight reel”. ◊

Bereft

Christina Moore’s short, encompassing a man’s life, his work, his past and his loss.

Words by Christina Moore | Illustration by Maria Dizazzo

The sun hung low in the sky, hitting the hard surfaces of the city as a bright, lonesome glare.

The trees stood limply, not a breeze to stir them but the hot exhaust of traffic. Edging his car through the six o’clock crawl, Kurt Leontes no longer took in the familiar lights and sounds. He’d retired today, or resigned, it didn’t make much difference; after forty years in the force, he felt they were glad to see the end of him. Forty years and he’d loved it, once. As a young bud, fresh out of school, he couldn’t wait to use the badge.

Then the long nights working all the way up the ladder, he thought he was saving the world. But now here he was, Deputy Commissioner Leontes, a worn leather briefcase beside him the only sign of his working days.

At home, the rooms were dark and silent. He opened the fridge, illuminating the kitchen with a blue haze. As he microwaved the box of leftover spaghetti, he let his mind slip into what could have been. Her warm hands resting on his wrist, standing at this same bench. The backyard, green with the heady smell of lawn clippings. The roundedness of her body in those last few days, and then the sweep of heat that came to his face.

He’d never known such a feeling until then. The microwave beeped harshly. Jealousy.

He sat, sprawled on the lumpy sofa still wearing his suit. He hadn’t bothered to turn any lights on.

Instead the dark house was filled with a grey light, filtered in from the city beyond. He quite liked that, letting the city absorb the house, pretending he wasn’t there. What was he going to do? The days would struggle along like the field irrigators of

“He quite liked that, letting the city absorb the house, pretending he wasn’t there” his youth. He hadn’t been back there in years, not since before Hermione. She’d loved the open air and the smell of dusty straw – he hadn’t dared return.

Maybe it was time. Going back to the farm could do him good, clear his head, stay a few weeks or so.

He got up and shuffled over to an old teak dresser by the window. The top drawer was filled with a shamble of knick-knacks. Beneath a dog-eared address book was a key-ring bottle opener and a bunch of keys - a mix of large, small and rusty.

Leontes placed the keys on top of the dresser and spread the address book open. A lamp was needed if he was going to be able to read. Under the yellow beam he flipped through the pages until he came to 'P'. In the curled script of Hermione’s hand, was the address of Paulina.

“Yes,” Leontes breathed, his breath still hot from the spaghetti.

He remembered the young summers the four of them had spent together – he and Hermione, Paulina and Anthony. Down from the city, they’d all stay together in that big barn of a place where Paulina tended her vegetables and the house had the sweet smell of baking and cow manure. That was a long time ago, but he knew Paulina still lived out there. Started a proper eco farm, he’d heard. That would cheer him up – country air, watching the cows, and Paulina.

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…

People never asked him directly. They never said, Did you do it? But you could see the way they looked at him, turning away ever so slightly if he came close. Honestly, he was quite glad they were scared of him, because he wouldn’t have known what to say otherwise. People assumed things, things that were not always right, although sometimes they were. …

At the muddy gate, Leontes pulled the Camry in and at the sight of the timber barn, instantly the memories came back. The hot sun, all of them on the deck. The talking they did – kids, work, all sorts of rubbish, laughing on and on. Hermione would throw her head back, smiling into the warm sky, that round belly getting bigger by the day.

He didn’t think there could be anything better. He hadn’t been back since then.

The garden rose out of the earth like an oasis in a desert. He parked on the driveway beneath a giant red gum, its bark gnarled and seeped. As he opened the car door, Leontes breathed the rich scents of soil and pollen. A tender smile spread across his face at the comfort he felt. The garden, full of roses, perennials and patches of shaggy Australian grasses, sprawled its way either side of the drive and up to the house. The house was the same – a large square formation, clad in a dark wood not at all appropriate in the fire season. Beyond the house and the large gum trees behind, he could just see the fields where Paulina grew her produce.

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At that moment he heard the clang of a shovel being dropped to the ground and Paulina emerged from the thickets of her garden.

“Leontes.”

She was still the same, as slim as the shovel at her feet, her blazing hair a pile atop her head.

“Yes. I’ve come back,” Leontes began. “Well, to stay a little while. A break, a respite you might say. I’ve retired.”

“Oh,” was all she said. Her expression frozen in a half frown. “Oh, I see.”

“I… I thought, seeing as I was down here, it would be good to visit you. It’s been a long time, I know.” He tried to smile, his face feeling stiff all of a sudden.

Paulina must have realised her reaction was gruff, because she smiled now and stepped towards him.

“Yes. And what a surprise it is to see you.

Retirement! Well, that will do you good… until you get bored, of course.”

“Yes,” Leontes chuckled. He felt calmer now, shuffling his feet. “Try to keep out of trouble.”

Paulina watched him, nodding vaguely. Her silver earrings flashed in the sunlight. She glanced over his shoulder, looking at the house.

“Well, I just drove down today,” Leontes continued.

“Could we have a cup of tea or something? Catch up?”

She hesitated.

“If you have a moment,” Leontes was getting the feeling he’d caught her while she was busy.

“No.” She said a little too quickly. “Sometimes, as time goes by, it’s hard to remember her exactly.”

“No. No, it’s fine. Ah, come on in,” and she started off towards the house, her pace quick.

Leontes looked over at Paulina, still holding the teapot. She appeared pale in the late afternoon light.

Inside, the house seemed more cramped than Leontes remembered. On every surface there was a jumble of books, mugs, dry flowers, knitted rugs and torn envelopes.

“No. I can try to forget things, but Hermione I will always remember, even after all this time,” his throat felt dry unexpectedly. “Hermione was my wife. Things may have gone wrong. So horribly wrong. But to this day, I love my wife.”

“Excuse the mess,” Paulina muttered as she noisily moved some items on the mantelpiece. “I’ll make us some tea.”

“Thanks,” Leontes stood idly in the sitting room, observing the space around him.

His gaze travelled along the collection of items on the mantle. There was an assembly of birds’ feathers in a jar, a painting of hay fields at sunrise, but what caught his eye was a photograph.

A girl, about ten or so, sat on an old fallen tree, the sun shining down across her face. She grinned at the camera, happiness plain in her eyes, and yet something about her made Leontes’ heart judder.

“You have a daughter?” he called out to Paulina.

“She’s beautiful.”

Paulina appeared at the doorway, tea pot in hand.

“Yes. She’s grown up now,” her voice was quiet.

“What’s her name?”

“Perdita, after my mother. We call her Pia,” she smiled, staring at Leontes.

“Pia.” He looked back at the photograph, and then at the one beside it. Hermione – his wife, Paulina’s childhood friend. Her face and torso filled the frame, turned slightly to the left, a wistful expression on her lips. Her dusky hair fell over her shoulders, the cool sun lighting her from behind.

Leontes stared at her, into those eyes he had missed every day for the past sixteen years. Hermione. He remembered her every detail. The way she tucked one side of her hair behind an ear, folded her shirt collar over her jacket, tilted one eyebrow slightly above the other. Her perfume, like the coming of summer rain. But those wrinkles either side of her mouth, he did not remember those.

“She looks different, Paulina,” he whispered without turning from Hermione.

They were both silent, transfixed by the photograph.

“‘I remember that day. Hermione lent you her coat, it was August,’ He picked up the photo, ‘But this is not that day!’”

Paulina remained motionless. “I know.”

“She looks different here, Paulina. Hermione, she looks… she looks older. She didn’t have those wrinkles.”

“She is just the same. We took that photo by the Harbour. You remember that day, it was cold, we… we took a boat out to Green Isle.”

“I remember that day. Hermione lent you her coat, it was August,” he picked up the photo, “but this is not that day!”

Just then a rustling came from the front door.

“That’s my farmhand,” Paulina hurriedly put down the tea pot. “I better make sure she doesn’t come in with muddy boots.”

But too late. Through the front door and into the dull sitting room, a woman and her daughter stepped. They both wore woollen socks, their boots removed, and their windblown hair fell messily around their flushed faces. As their gaze stopped on Leontes, they both froze.

“Leon,” The woman’s voice was barely a whisper but it struck the turbid air with certainty.

“Hermione.”

Leontes felt the world around him crumble, darkening, and as he collapsed, his hand reached out to his daughter, the girl he’d never met, and he knew. ◊

Cardiomyopathy Words by Alissa Yeo | Illustration by Maria Dizazzo

Memories of first everything still lingers Hi and goodbyes, hot and cold fights, A freefall kind of love, we never knew what was right.

Laughters and unforgettable banters end with kisses goodnight.

Flashback figures of us walking by, The journey of our faint footprints linger side by side.

A slow drive or a long drive, it was clearly ride or die, We didn’t get the memo of our life’s story on God’s lines.

Heartbeats of a familiar rhythm kept us alive, A roller coaster ride, or a tug of war fight, With our grips giving away from time to time.

Possible futures vanished from one’s sight.

To the moon and back, love never came back right.

What’s meant to be forever was bounded with time.

My head on your chest, I heard the truth in your lies.

We’ve both held on enough, it’s the very last ride, When you said you wouldn’t leave me…

I’m a fool no more.

You couldn’t look me in the eye.

May our paths diverge, it’s time we both crash and die.

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Words by Mateusz Kryszkiewicz Image by Carolyn Booth

Once warmth in my chest now pain in my lungs, but who knew.

It now creeps in with a vengeance always uninvited it settles in its place.

It makes me think it’s normal not to care, like someone I once knew.

The truth is sometimes the bravest thing you can do is face the day, sometimes the only thing you will do is cry all day, and that’s okay, I know there’s sadness in your heart but don’t let go, we’re not even halfway through the halftime show, it’s a paved road, flowers won’t always grow.

Now I pick up the pieces and do my best, I tell myself what I needed to hear.

V

X: Student Voice Looking to these Verse contributors to be

inspired and motivated!

Angelique Joy What is the creative process like for you?

Always chaos! For me, making images starts with a narrative, an aesthetic and how I want it all to feel and then I just free fall.

What work of art/writing are you inspired by?

Sylvia Plath writings, films by Wes Anderson, Bjork and the creatives she collaborates with, the photographer Tim Walker, surrealist artist Hans Bellmer, set designer Es Devlin... so many. I love layers, layers of texture and detail and meaning.

If you could only experience one medium of art for the rest of your life, what you would choose?

Photography! I have played with other mediums but always come back to photography... I adore the idea that something is captured forever in the chemicals, or pixels! There is something magic about it!

Lauren Rawlings What is the creative process like for you?

The creative process is almost meditative for me in some ways. When I'm painting or drawing, it creates this feeling of flow where every part of me is connected and unified. I'm not someone who can force creativity, I have to wait for it. It's the same with writing.

What work of art/writing are you inspired by?

Inspiration comes from anywhere and everywhere, everyday life and people, song lyrics, random quotes and poems I find on Pinterest, but in particular I am always inspired by the work of Charles Bukowski and Savannah Brown.

If you could only experience one medium of art for the rest of your life, what you would choose?

I think I'd have to pick music, it does so many things for me. Not only is it a source of inspiration for my writing but listening to music is just one of my favourite things to do.

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Jaiimeeta Magandram What is the creative process like for you?

It's completely spontaneous every time I write. My emotions have a need to get out and if I don't stop and type up what I feel on my phone, honestly I'd be a mess. It helps me understand myself.

What work of art/writing are you inspired by?

I love deep poetry. Also the European way of writing, which incorporates humour and an unusual perspective on everyday life.

If you could only experience one medium of art for the rest of your life, what you would choose?

Music. As much as I love writing I can't live without hearing music, I literally need a soundtrack to my life. Also, I am so grateful for how it can bring people together through dance.

David Hood What is the creative process like for you?

Real life experiences create an urge to write and to try to find a 'hook' to capture the attention of the reader. Some articles need a lot of research to support the initial theme, especially those with a historical or technical focus.

What work of art/writing are you inspired by?

Autobiographies aroused my interest at an early age, especially those with significant achievements in science, the military, athletics and leadership.

If you could only experience one medium of art for the rest of your life, what you would choose?

This is a difficult question to answer, because we tend to rely more and more on multimedia. Photography, however, is often overlooked for it's creative impact. The composition and subject of each photograph can create a compelling message.

JayJay Githinji What is the creative process like for you?

It's very elusive at times and other times it's very definite. I could be going about my day and get an idea and if I do not put it down right then and work on it, it disappears. However, I could have an idea coursing through my brain all day until I get to sit down and expound on it.

What work of art/writing are you inspired by?

My list of inspiration is endless. I am inspired by soulful musicians, be it Adele, Demi Lovato, Whitney Houston; I have been a reader all my life, my favourites being Sidney Sheldon, Danielle Steele and Dan Brown; I am also inspired by my friends who are also creating their own forms of art.

If you could only experience one medium of art for the rest of your life, what you would choose?

Music. Music has been there for me through my toughest times and through it I started taking my own thoughts and putting them into paper.

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An Eternity Inside the Pages Words by Nelya Valamanesh Image by Nadir Obeid

After Uncle Has’ funeral service, Zainab and I waited outside the masjid as everyone else went in to pray.

“A picture is worth a thousand words, but a thousand words is a soul captured.”

I leaned back and took a long drag on my joint.

“Do you think his soul is trapped in his books?”

Zainab asked as she spread out on the lawn outside the masjid.

“Which book? He wrote at least 10.”

“I don’t know maybe a little bit of him is in each.”

“A picture is worth a thousand words, but a thousand words is a soul captured” I passed Zainab the joint and joined her on the lawn making sure my skirt didn’t rise and flash any unsuspecting passers. Zainab queried me.

“Does that mean Prophet Muhammad is trapped in the Quran?”

“No silly he didn’t write it, he got some other sucker to do it.”

“We are definitely going to Jahannam for talking about the Prophet like this” “Zainab! Look what’s in your hand right now.” I point down at the burning joint between her fingers and shake my head. “You little harami girl.”

We both start laughing, I grab the joint from her hand and take a long drag.

“You know what? I think he would have been chill with it,” Zainab responds.

I let the smoke creep into my lungs. “Probably what he did up in that cave for so long” “Khadi! Khadi!”

I quickly put out the joint and adjust my scarf.

“It’s your sister.”

I turned to see Layla running towards us from the masjid.

We both get up and walk towards her, spritzing ourselves with the perfume Zainab hid in her bag for using on these sorts of occasions.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“The prayer is over, so we are all going to aunties for food,” Layla replies.

“Oh good, I’m super hungry,” I snidely remark as Zainab winks at me.

“What’s that funny smell?” Layla asks before sniffing my arm.

“It’s period blood! Mwahahaha!” I begin to tickle her.

“Eww stop it! You guys are gross. I’m going to find mum.”

Layla runs back to the Masjid carpark.

Zainab reaches for my hand as we slowly stroll behind and smiles at me.

“I’m so glad we’ve synced.”

“Awww. That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.” ◊

USASA Advocacy

Khaliah Marro explains their own experience

with USASA Advocacy in an effort to encourage students to seek support for academic issues.

Words by Khaliah Marro

One afternoon I was sitting at my computer desk pondering what my next move would be towards enriching my degree and university experience. At that time, I was taking a break from an exhausting assignment whilst simultaneously questioning everything about life and its existence, including trying to figure out what steps to take for effective employability. Heavy thoughts, I know, but as university students you know where I am coming from. When I concluded to ‘live in the present’ my brain finally calmed down and I decided to search through Career Hub to see what work experience opportunities existed. I came across an internship opportunity at USASA Advocacy. I knew of USASA, but I was unaware of what advocacy was.

Naturally, I did a Google search to find a definitive answer, but I was still left confused as to how ‘advocacy’ was related to a university environment.

Anyway, I applied for the internship and was very fortunate to get accepted.

plagiarism in an assignment or if a student has received a preclusion letter from the university.

The USASA Advocacy team is there to advocate for students during these stressful situations and to support their academic cases. The manager of USASA Advocacy is Luis and his two colleagues are Advocacy Officers, Tanya and Prashant, who are available to support students to get the best outcome for their cases.

If you ever need assistance with academic issues give USASA Advocacy a call or send them an e-mail.

The team is there to support you and help you through these types of difficulties that you may encounter during your studies, never think you are alone! Be strong, but always ask for help – that is the strongest action you can do. Tell your friends or anyone that needs this type of service.

Good luck with your studies and remember to enjoy life’s ride! ◊

When I commenced the internship I still had a vague idea of the term ‘advocacy’, however through workshops and a series of activities I learnt about it at USASA Advocacy. In the simplest terms, advocacy means to be in support of someone or something, for example a person or a cause. To advocate is to be in favour of and to support a person, a cause or a reason.

At UniSA on the City West Campus there is an organisation that advocates for all UniSA students.

USASA Advocacy is a service for UniSA students to turn to when they are faced with academic issues. Examples of academic issues are wanting to get an assignment remarked, accusations of

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The Power of a Pair of Hands In a city surrounded by water, it can be hard not to feel like a drop in the ocean. But a drop can make all the difference.

Words by Annabel Bowles Images by Poppy Fitzpatrick

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At the crisp hour of seven on a winter’s morning I arrived in Venice. The city was eerily empty and quiet in its waking hours. As I wandered through wispy fog I caught a glimpse of its timeless charm; a baker arranging brioche behind a golden window front, a pair of painters repairing flaking pastel pink walls, gondolas with red velvet seats bobbing in the water, toothless fishermen in rubber aprons slapping their morning’s catch onto beds of ice.

Moments of magic found in a maze of crumbling, candy coloured buildings and winding canals.

The water slowly turned from slate to silver, sparkling with a thousand reflections as the city woke. I spent hours silently tracing centuries of footsteps over narrow cobblestone paths and wooden footbridges. Venice’s one hundred and eighteen islands, some as small as a single house, have never seen a train, a bus or even a car. The city has only ever been wandered by foot or by water. Its intricate canals are not only the foundation of Venice, but of an ancient way of life.

I soaked in the beauty of this magical floating city.

Yet it was impossible to ignore the cigarette butts and plastic bags of dog waste floating in the water.

Tourists were seated in cafes, sipping coffee from

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“I spent hours silently tracing centuries of footsteps over narrow cobblestone paths and wooden footbridges” plastic cups, stirring sugar with plastic spoons.

At every corner tacky tourist stores sold plastic keychains and magnets, each individually wrapped in a shiny film.

Wonderful parts of the world have opened my eyes in more ways than one. I’m often left feeling a bittersweet concoction of amazement and anxiety.

It’s sickening to visibly see the pollution that comes hand in hand with mass tourism. Yet the issues that go unnoticed leave a lump in my throat.

White rhinos are on the brink of extinction, Borneo rainforest is burning at an unprecedented speed, and islands are sinking under a rising sea.

I felt helpless and useless. Too easily I’d accepted the fact that I, a drop in a world of oceans, couldn’t change a thing. But then something broke the surface: a giant pair of hands.

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Their stark whiteness stood out against a peach coloured building like a sore thumb. Sprouting from Venice’s Grand Canal, the hands pressed against the 14th century Ca’Sagredo Hotel. One hand appeared to hold the building from sinking, the other seemed to tug it gently under.

The hands belong to Lorenzo Quinn, a featured artist in the 2017 Venice Biennale. ‘Support’ is more than a distinctive contemporary sculpture in an antique city. It highlights the innate human ability to either help or harm.

Hands have enabled all of the magnificent and devastating products of humanity. Quinn’s sculpted hands are both gallant and sinister in their strength, but it’s their simplicity that delivers a punch; a universal message.

“‘Support’ is more than a distinctive contemporary sculpture in an antique city.

It highlights the innate human ability to either help or harm” “The hand holds so much power – the power to love, to hate, to create, to destroy.”

More specifically, the sculpture highlights the inevitability of rising sea levels and the threat this poses to Venice. Many studies suggest the lagoon city could be completely underwater within 80 years.

Within our lifetime.

For a city that receives thirty million visitors each year, ‘Support’ embodies a compelling message. If one pair of hands could cause just a fraction of these tourists to stop and think, imagine what a million conversations could do. Imagine what a million hands could do.

One day Quinn plans to position the sculpture against an Arctic glacier and shoot a time-lapse video as the ice melts.

“In a few months they’ll be gripping thin air, and people will see this is real, this is happening.”

We may limit our reality to the confines of concrete cities, ignorant to the natural world surrounding us; but the truth is our existence is fragile. Our grasp on the world is slipping.

A harmonious balance that has existed for almost four billion years is falling apart at our hands. We are the only natural being nature does not need, and our place on this earth is a miracle. It should not be taken for granted.

I picked up pieces of trash as I walked out of Venice later that day. It may seem futile to some, but at least I left the city somewhat better than I found it. Something within Quinn’s hands struck a nerve.

I walked away from a broken world, consumed with the belief that it didn’t have to be this way. Big changes often have small beginnings.

‘Support’ stands as a harrowing warning, but also as a symbol of hope. Your hands possess an immense ability, and responsibility, to do good. What will you do with them? ◊

A story sweetly communicating how a song can mean so much more than just a song.

Words by Eddie McCarroll Illustration by Sarah Burton

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As old and outdated as it is, this iPod is the most protected object in my possession. Its chipping silver exterior and concaving buttons reflect our relationship's own battered and bruised history.

Most importantly, the playlists it holds within are a chapter of our lives. A chapter I don’t want to leave. So, I’ll listen to the playlists on repeat whilst gulping down ice cream and thinking about how you left me.

The first playlist is upbeat and lively like the beginning of our relationship. I remember how your friend from work set us up to go out to a fancy restaurant, but you preferred the simplicity of a food court and dancing at the club. The way you moved to this song was hypnotic, as the pink and blue club lights shone through your beautiful blonde hair. From the fun we had dancing to these songs, that first night I knew there was something special about you.

Shuffling to the next tracks your ears could go numb because of the loud, obtrusive workout playlist that I listened to when I went to the gym every day to make sure I was perfect for our next date. But you didn’t care about any of that, you simply cared about me, laughing at my jokes and my embarrassing childhood stories.

“It was perfect, me at the wheel and you sprawled out over the car seat basking in the sun” After a year of dating you said you had to get away from the torment of living with your sister so I went into work formulating the perfect road trip playlist. Songs of summer, going without sleep and staying young forever. I picked you up in my Dad’s red convertible, which I had taken without permission and you ran out of your house and jumped over the door, into the car like one of those old 60’s movies. It was perfect, me at the wheel and you sprawled out over the car seat basking in the sun. We travelled the winding beach roads that were bordered by the rocky sea cliffs and white crashing water. An escape to tranquillity with you. Sitting on a beach listening to these songs together I knew this would be the girl I married.

was blushing as red as the dress you were wearing when I lowered my knee to the ground and asked you to marry me. The word yes was the best sound to ever grace my ears.

The first time I heard this next song was on my way to work, not that I listened to it the whole way through. Your sister’s call interrupted it, with panic in her voice. You collapsed at the wedding planners in a convulsive fit. I swung the car around with haste to get to you, but the song had already ended.

“I need to retire this iPod and go out and make new playlists otherwise I fear I’ll become a memory myself” This next playlist is the hardest to listen to, but it did help to drown out the condolences of doctors, friends and family. I remember sitting there in the doctor’s waiting room crying just wishing we could dance to our music one last time but that dance would never come.

Darling, the sound flowing through these earpieces is the lifeblood that has kept the memory of you alive for the last 6 years. I hate to say it, but I need to cut the cord. I need to retire this iPod and go out and make new playlists otherwise I fear I’ll become a memory myself.

In the apple store, fumbling with the overwhelming number of features on the new iPod touch, a staff member came up to me, her name badge said Hope. ◊

Shuffle to the tranquil opera tracks that played in the background at the Italian restaurant. Your face

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October & Beyond Here’s a whole stack of things to do October 26

End of Year Dinner - BOSS

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Yes! I'm a Pilot Pub Crawl – Aviation

26

Club & Leadership Grant Application Closing Date

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Ignite Grad Show - Illustration and Animation

November 1

Raffle - Illustration & Animation

2

Don't Walk Crawl - Podiatry, Physio, OT

2

1 Year Anniversary – Showpony

4

Verse mag Editorial Team Application Closing Date

10

Opening of Queer Youth Chill Out Space – Rainbow Club

10

Pride March Adelaide - Rainbow Club

21

Raffle - Comm Design

23

Queer Ball - Rainbow Club

24

End of Year Ball - CEP/ESS/Human Movement

25

Ball - MedRad Sciences

30

Club & Leadership Grant Application Closing Date

30

Cocktail Ball - Education

December 7

Grad Ball - OT

RECURRING EVENTS More than weekly

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Ballet Classes – Ballet Club

Weekly

Studio Sessions - Art Club

Weekly

Hexhibition: Collaborative Project - Art Club

Weekly

Badminton - Bangladeshi Students

Weekly

Info Table - Socialist Alternative

Weekly

Rehearsal - Music Lovers

Weekly

Friday Sessions - Overseas Christian Fellowship

Weekly

Sports - Islamic Society

Weekly

Weekly Screening - AJAS

Weekly

Weekly Gaming Session - UniSAGA

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Check these events and more out at USASA.sa.edu.au/Events

Goodbye & Thank You Words by Jordan Mumford

If you’re reading this then exams are most likely around the corner, so good luck to you all! This will be my last submission to Verse Magazine for the year, so I’d like to thank the Verse Magazine editors for their fantastic work in 2018 and wish them all the best in the future.

It has been such a privilege to serve the UniSA student cohort as Student Association President in 2018. At the start of the year I expressed my desire to see a USASA that was more focused on student welfare, student clubs, as well as improved engagement with UniSA students. I am so pleased that we have delivered on all these fronts and more.

Through both the USASA Merger Survey and the USASA Strategic Plan, we have engaged with thousands of students this year to ensure that you have more of a say in what USASA does for you as a student association. We now have a Boardendorsed view of prolific student representation meaning you will be able to have more of a say in shaping your own university experience.

Through the ongoing implementation of the USASA Clubs Strategic Plan, we have seen increased funding to clubs locked in for 2019, more than 4500 student members of clubs (over 1000 more than 2017), as well as more than 1000 on-campus events across all UniSA campuses.

Thanks to the hard work of Pamela Spek (USASA Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Student Representative), USASA became the first South Australian student association to affiliate to the Union of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Students (UATSIS), who we’ve worked alongside to

develop an Aboriginal Strategy which is part of USASA’s Strategic Plan to see a more culturally aware and engaged student association which can work with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students to better support their needs.

In the areas of sexual assault and harassment, USASA has worked extensively with the University to acknowledge shortcomings and deliver on improved policy and procedures that are more accessible to students, delivered more training for student leaders, and have lobbied to roll out the successful ‘Be A Better Human’ campaign at UniSA. There has been no stronger advocate on this important issue than Kate Riggall (USASA Postgraduate Student Representative) so I’d like to thank her for all her hard work this year.

Our renewed focus on welfare initiatives has seen the development of a plan to deliver an Emergency Grants Program and a part-time Financial Counsellor to support students in financial difficulty, which has been approved by the USASA Board, and is awaiting funding from UniSA to roll out in 2019. We’ve also worked closely with the Student Engagement Unit to support the rollout of the BlackBullion financial literacy package which is free to access for all UniSA students.

It has been such a rewarding year to be President of USASA and I am pleased to be able to leave USASA in better shape than I inherited it. Thank you to all of the fantastic USASA staff who work tirelessly to keep this organisation going and delivering for students here at UniSA, and thank you to the USASA Board for putting aside our differences to put UniSA students first. ◊ Edition 25 2018

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I Remember Your Smile Words by David Hood Images by Grace Plunkett

The room was very dark. The old man was lying on his right side in a foetal position with his eyes open, blinking occasionally. He could only see a very narrow ribbon of light which extended from the top of the doorway to the floor, as the door was only slightly ajar. He was motionless on a single bed with the bedhead against the wall.

He could not see the window behind him. Light did not penetrate the window, because the blinds were closed to obscure the external lights. There was a stainless-steel cabinet on castors on the right-hand side of the bed. Hospital equipment on the left-hand side. There were a couple of chairs against the walls. He could not see any of the items in the room because of the darkness.

or friends visited”

The man was considered “old” rather than elderly because of his longevity and frail condition.

Two elderly women had been to visit during the day. They said that they were his twin daughters, but he remained aloof through suspicion. He did not know if he should believe them. He was angry because he remembered his daughters from when they were first born. He still had memories of happy times with his wife and daughters, like Christmas Day when his daughters were six years old. They received new bikes as Christmas presents. He

He remembered that his daughters were always beautiful and had blonde hair. They used to say that they didn’t like their hair because it was ginger. He thought their hair was mostly blonde with a hint of rose gold. The two elderly women had grey hair with different colouring. They looked old enough to have grandchildren. They still smiled, but it seemed to mask a sadness. They talked constantly. That was similar. He remembered happy banter between the girls and their friends. He remembered their laughter when the family talked

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remembered their laughter as they rode the bikes in the cul-de-sac in front of their home. They had long hair which looked golden in the sunlight as the mild breeze blew their hair backwards.

“He remembered happy banter between the girls and their friends. He remembered their laughter when the family talked at the dinner table and when the extended family

at the dinner table and when the extended family or friends visited.

The girls were very athletic and competed through high school and university. There were often discussions about athletic techniques and training.

In fact, they continued their athletic interest beyond university. He ran with them many years ago, when they could all coordinate work and times to run. The focus was more on running than swimming.

The elderly women looked fit enough to continue running, but they seemed to talk more about friends and fashion now. The old man felt absent from the conversation, because he no longer knew most of their friends and fashion was of little interest to him. They kissed him on his cheek before they left. He managed to produce a smile and a slight wink of one eye.

“He remembered the first time that he saw the girl that would become his wife” The old man was alone now. He wanted to see his wife, the mother of his daughters. He asked the

elderly ladies earlier in the day, when he would be able to see the love of his life again. He didn’t comprehend a direct answer. They may have said that she is always with him. Or they may have said that she had been there earlier.

He remembered the first time that he saw the girl that would become his wife. It was at a function that was held in a local hall. People were starting to dance and he saw her in the distance. He felt like he had been struck by a bolt of lightning.

She had an aura about her, with beautiful eyes and a captivating smile. He gathered the courage to introduce himself and to start a conversation. That was the beginning of a lifelong relationship. He now remembered her smile, many years later, as he was laying on the bed. The ribbon of light from the doorway seemed to slowly engulf the room, not from the doorway itself but from his peripheral vision.

It was as if he was looking through a brilliant white cloud with a central space that presented an image of his wife during the first meeting. He would never forget her smile. ◊

UniSA Club Interview

The Indian Students Assembly of South Australia Interview conducted by Simon-Peter Telford

The Indian Students Assembly of South Australia (ISASA) is one of UniSA’s most popular clubs hosting fun and enjoyable events throughout the year. Verse caught up with Smit Shah from ISASA to ask a few Q’s about Indian culture, identifying as Indian and studying at UniSA and the events the club holds.

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What does the Indian Students Assembly mean to you and others?

The Indian Students Assembly of South Australia (ISASA) is a social club which shares the culture and vibrancy of India in Adelaide. For me, ISASA is a platform for the international students to develop new relationships and new bonds with different people. I also see ISASA as a medium for those who want to develop their skills and those with an ambition to excel by joining the committee.

Community seems like a big part of the club; can you speak about that?

ISASA is based widely on the principles of Indian students and the personalities that they have. Indian culture is very much about socialisation and creating an environment like the one back in India. The community in Adelaide is very strong in doing this.

Who can join the Indian Students Assembly?

Joining ISASA is not limited to Indian students. The first goal of founding the club was to bring diversity on campus by sharing Indian culture amongst a vastly diverse Australia. All students who are keen to celebrate Indian culture, indulge in different Indian cuisine, or dance to Bollywood music like a party animal can join the club.

How is Indian culture represented within the club?

What are some events that involve such?

ISASA is very varied in the type of activities that are undertaken throughout the year. We hold food stalls depicting the street food in India. We have dance classes for those who want to learn Bollywood dance and want to perform on the stage. Our ISASA cricket team actively participate in the cricket tournament throughout the year. Along with these periodic activities we hold many parties throughout the year for students to come along and meet new people and network. We organise Bollywood movie nights to enjoy and relax, forgetting all stress of university and everyday life. ISASA provides a holistic insight in the Indian culture ranging from sport, music, dance, movies and food.

these separate groups together for the benefit of everyone. ISASA has been a major part of this providing an opportunity for these students to interact, organise events and more importantly make a lot of contacts. This atmosphere of Indian community in UniSA changed from small friend groups to an Indian community group, ISASA. How has the club changed or reinforced these thoughts?

Initiation of the club provided many students with an opportunity to find others who are like them; those that were new to Australia, from the same city in India, studying the same degree. ISASA is always keen on helping Indian students to settle in and keep up with the Indian culture even when away from home. One thing that could be improved is to enable more communication and involvement of the local students with the Indian students and establishing a platform where the exchange of cultures could potentially happen which will help us to settle in more.

Do you have a personal memory of ISASA that you would like to share?

ISASA has been a great learning curve for me, from organising events to managing and working with people. I have met a lot of people and made amazing friends. Overall, ISASA has taught me much and has given lots and lots of good memories to take away.

It is very difficult to pinpoint one single scenario, every moment has been a memorable one for me.

How can someone learn more about the club?

We have a Facebook page (facebook.com/ IndianstudentsinSouthAustralia) where all our upcoming events and past event photos are shared.

Our committee members can help you out very promptly if you leave us a message. Our USASA page is where they can also stay up to date with future events. However the best way to stay tuned is to become a member so that you can get all the email updates and join us at the events. â—Š

How does it feel to identify as Indian and study at UniSA? I remember as a student starting the university, I saw a lot of Indian groups who shared similar likes and dislikes. Something was needed to bring

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Words by Jaiimeeta Magandram

You're hesitating, Your words are smothered by the norms of another.

Why are you hiding your rights from the forefront of your mind?

Choking from the inside so you don't hear your pain, Power is through the suffering, push against this cage.

The valley between your legs is said to be pure, Yet to be fucked by a domineering figure.

Stop expecting to be treated as an object of someone's desire, A seal to be broken before it ages.

Derogatory words are not yours to embrace, Your vocabulary is refined, it should not be reduced out of fear.

Dirty men and women have no right to cover you in bruised memories, However small and forgotten you make it out to be, I'm afraid it'll cripple.

Your thoughts, no matter how dark they have travelled, I promise is better out than left in to fester.

Be empowered in the ways you chose to say no, Yet continue to undress.

It is an effort to please yourself first, Demand the respect your mother would want for you.

The type of respect she never got when she spoke with kindness, And if they do not listen, recoil from the obedience they beg of you.

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Words by Lauren Rawlings Image by Will Adams

I am a masterpiece in progress.

Constantly Endlessly Painting and repainting my bones In the colour that I think fits me best, But nothing stays just right for very long.

At first a colour may seem rich And powerful Like the passion of burgundy red, But as it seeps into my marrow It becomes nothing but a symbol of blood.

I analyse the inadequacies Until discontent fills me And I must paint my bones a new colour.

But I don’t think I’ll ever be just one.

My world is too complex for simple.

I am made of a rainbow Of layers of hues, Forever growing And adding to the intricacies of the structure Of the entanglement of my bones.

I may not be who I once was But at least I have paint chips To remind me.

Perhaps I will never be happy enough With the art of me To stand myself in a gallery.

But then again, Art is never finished, only abandoned.

And I don’t plan on ever Abandoning myself.

Review: Hot Sauces

Words by Jesse Neill | Illustrations by Sascha Tan

Franks RedHot

Huy Fong Sriracha

Cholula

450 SHU

2,200 SHU

3,600 SHU

Starting off with a bang, Franks has a delicious little kick that is sure to get your tongue warmed up. It also holds the honour of being the main ingredient in the first ever Buffalo Wing sauce.

While this would never usually be a problem, in this case it leaves everything tasting like Buffalo Wings, and sometimes in life (rarely) you just don’t feel like wings. Even though it’s the first on this list and there’s a sweetness to its tart, consume enough of it and it’ll still be as painful as self-flagellation.

What do you get when you mix chili, sugar, salt, garlic, distilled vinegar, potassium sorbate, sodium bisulphite, and xanthan gum? No, not a bomb, rather the king of hot sauces that’s quickly taking over the world. Pretty soon students will praise the Sriracha legend before class every day, and we will measure history in two times: BS, the destitute time ‘Before Sriracha’ and A HOTASS, ‘Arrival of the Honourable, Or Truly Amazing Sriracha Sauce’. It’s so good you can put it on anything, even stuff you don’t enjoy or eat like uni assignments and taxes –they’ll become a whole lot better (if not a little soggy).

Now I’m starting to sweat a little bit. In a world dominated

by Sriracha, it’s easy to forget about this hot sauce staple. I’m referring to good old Cholula, the iconic wooden-topped Mexican hot sauce with a seemingly calm woman pictured on the front label – a stark contrast to how you’ll actually be looking after consuming this. The pain is a creeper, you don’t know it’s coming and by the time you do, there’s nothing you can do but ride the heatwave. This stuff’s so hot it could fuel itself from Mexico to Australia, so be prepared for a little Latino spice.

*SHU = Scoville Heat Units (the common measurement used to indicate the spiciness of a chili)

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Edition 25 2018

Choosing a “best” hot sauce is an impossible task; like naming the best episode of The Simpsons or a favourite kind of cereal, debates about these fiery condiments are always sure to be heated. Inspired

by Complex’s Hot Ones, Verse Editor Jesse Neill puts his mind, body, and bowels to the test (as well us using up as many cringeworthy puns as possible in the process) for this edition’s volcanic review of hot sauces. So, grab a glass of cold milk, a cucumber, and some white rice – things are about to get spicy.

Tabasco

Nando’s Extra Hot Peri

The Source

3,750 SHU

Peri 35000 SHU

7.1 Million SHU

Ah Tabasco, the OG of hot condiments. The barrel-aged sauce has been around since Prince Charles was a child (1868) and used to be made with old cologne bottles. So not only would you get a tinge of Old Spice as you swirled it on your bangers and mash, but you now know what ol’ Charley smells like too. It can’t be denied that this will spice up your meal, but they went a little heavy-handed on the vinegar. This leaves your food tasting like hot vinegar, which is a great band name, but not such a good addition to your meal. Better hidden in a Bloody Mary than anything else.

Shit. Which is exactly what you’ll be doing after trying this one. While this is not blindingly hot, it’s enough to impair your vision for a few minutes. It’s citrusy, garlicky, and addictively moreish; keep in mind though, it’s very hot and will leave your mouth roasting more than a turkey on Thanksgiving. But, just like a lousy ex, its addictive pull will keep you coming back for more, even though it hurts. It hasn’t caused me to shit the bed yet, but it is a good laxative, so be prepared for anything if you have too much of this dangerously addictive liquid.

Warning: not to be used as rat poison, paint stripper, jet fuel or fire accelerant (although those are probably all more acceptable uses of this hot sauce). You know when you have to sign a waiver that this thing is going to be fucking hot. In my five minutes of transcendent torment, my mind was transported to a realm that can only be described as hell, while my body perspired like crazy and my skin turned an alarmingly red tone. If you are going to try this, be very careful and make sure not to touch your eyeballs or any other ball shaped objects on your body after using your fingers to try it (imagine Deep Heat on steroids). Disco Inferno eat your heart out, this stuff burns baby, burns.

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The Signs As: Card Games

Words and Illustration by Sascha Tan

ARIES

TAURUS

April 21 - May 21

May 22 - June 21

Solitaire

Dos

Mafia

Easily engaged Won't break the rules Needs someone to spice up their life

A bit too extra Will only confuse you Loves drama

May lie straight to your face A team player Fake

March 21 - April 20

CANCER

LEO

GEMINI

VIRGO

June 22 - July 23

July 24 - August 23

August 24 - September 23

Cheat

Go Fish

Taboo

Will confront others if need be Defensive when confronted Sneaky

Probably really unlucky with card games but won't believe it Very particular about who they share things with Optimistic

Constantly trying to explain themselves Questioning everything Works extremely well under pressure

LIBRA

SCORPIO

SAGITTARIUS

Uno

Kings Cup

Cards Against Humanity

Only plays to get redemption Though will always get hit with three Draw 4s in a row The backstabber

Lives dangerously Remembering every rule in the book Probably powertrips

Likes to stir the pot A questionable but sometimes great sense of humour Will try cater their personality for other people

CAPRICORN

AQUARIUS

PISCES

Billionaire Banshee

Blackjack

Spoons

Very kinky Your go-to matchmaker Will try anything

Always looking to take risks Not afraid to be assertive Competitive

As pure as can be Sometimes slow Coincidentally the little spoon in bed

September 24 - October 23

December 22 - January 20

October 24 - November 22

January 21 - February 19

November 23 - December 21

February 20 - March 20

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