I had some black shoes on which met the stage with an excellent friction-free kind of slide so I found I could spin at will.
(Dave Graney, 1001 Australian Nights, II, ‘I come from the clouds!’)
Daisy closed the magazine, added it to the pile of others on the broad table beside the bed, smoothed her mother’s rug, patted the pillows, patted her hands, kissed her lightly and left the room, taking the tray on which the tea had gone cold in the silver teapot, and where the delicate cress sandwiches lay almost untouched on the delicate green plate.
She sat in the nearby sunroom, looking out across the tops of two old apple trees that were busy with white blossom.
(Carmel Bird, ‘Euthanasia and the good butler’)
Bound in green leather, the book looks like a rare first edition with flaking gold writing on the spine and vanilla pages.
(Cassandra Atherton, ‘The live sparrow of translation’, Southerly 76.3)
That he was able to express himself in a language not his own was deeply impressive to me, though I never admitted that to him; I just covered his pages in small red marks.
(Adele Dumont, ‛This is not a conversation about asylum seekers’, Southerly 76.3)
The carnage in the retail apparel industry just gets uglier. On Friday Oroton was the latest to deliver a result in this year’s fashion colour―red.
(Elizabeth Knight, ‛Apparel retailer Oroton follows this year’s fashion colour into the red’, Sydney Morning Herald 30 Sep. 2017)
Scene: a tall, erect man, aged 60, is walking up a long gravel driveway. He is impeccably, incongruously dressed for the country surroundings: dark blue suit and tie, rose-pink shirt, dress shoes. It is the Go-Betweens’ Robert Forster.
(Andrew Stafford, ‛The Go-Betweens: Right Here doco shows old wounds remain close to the surface’, Sydney Morning Herald 20 Sep. 2017)
The reds and the ochres of the earth surrounding the town can seem like a vast movie set recreating a spacecraft landing in Mars, or a savage ecological blight. I feel my throat tighten with emotion. The red dirt is what our family remembers most. No matter what colour your garment was for any chosen social engagement, you came home red. The colours of this place are foremost, infernally beautiful.
(Tim Rogers, ‛Kalgoorlie’, Detours)
The germ of the story was this image of an orange tent in the bush that just came to me, and I started thinking about what happened to the campers, where are they?
(Damien Power, quoted by Karl Quinn, ‛Under a dark sky’, Spectrum, Sat. 19 Aug. 2017)