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When my son was about ten years old we went on holiday to Perth. We didn’t fly, as many people do. We drove from Adelaide where we lived. That’s a distance of 2691.44 km, about twenty-four hours driving time. It takes around three days, even more if you stop along the way. A lot of the drive is on The Eyre Highway which cuts across The Nullabor  for 1675Kms. The Nullabor is mostly a flat, dry, treeless plain; there are very long stretches of the road where there doesn’t seem to be much going on. It’s only if you stop and get out of the car that you start to see the micro-variation.

Like many Australians, we figured that Driving The Nullabor was an essential part of the Australian experience. We had to do it at least once.


I’d grown up with my parents’ stories of the drive. They regularly braved the distance in…

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Crossing into the Unknown


refugees-train-14_mPhoto: AFP

My new morning routine, which has been going on for months now, involves passing by a foreign embassy.

Every day as I pass by, I immediately say I am so going to blog about this. But time runs, life happens and I forget about it. Today, however, I am ready. I am ready to express the thoughts I get when I see the people crossing the street into the embassy. I see hope, I see light, I see dreams, I see aspirations, I see goals, I see new beginnings, I see trauma, I see hardships, I see tragedies..and I see despair.

The embassy is one of the embassies that declared its willingness to interview applicants coming from Syria and Iraq to assess their eligibility of being “refugees”. Their stories might not be as I describe them here, they might be the complete opposite. My post is my own reading…

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