Oh, it is to Laugh

Attending the Melbourne International Comedy Festival can be an odd experience. It is at these events that it becomes possible to feel stalked by the ever-hatted Asher Treleaven, to be accosted by a miniature Jesus and indeed to discover just how tall Shappi Khorsandi isn’t. Actually, it’s on that last note that discussion of my …

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Fragments of Descriptive Prose

Embers flickered in the dying light. The moon’s rays having been made diffuse by encroaching clouds, the night sky was swept a sickly grey-white. The merest prickles of orange punctuated the landscape, delivered by the unexpected visitor in their midst. These flickers, these flames, sought the very stuff of their new environment. What they found …

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