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Wednesday 27 December 2017
Memoir

memoir: shells

Emma Brooker
No comments

I can still close my eyes and remember summer holidays as a kid. The car trip we made each year, to the small beach town on the other side of the mountain ranges. The smell of eucalyptus and the soaked earth under the vine tangled rain forest, swallowing up the road as our car made…
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Wednesday 5 April 2017
Memoir

memoir: the great escape

Emma Brooker
One comment

I have never been one to free fall into addiction. The hook always skimmed close to my head, but it never latched. So many times, when I was battered and weak. You would think it would be so easy for me to then reach over an uncrossed line for a bottle or pill. I have…
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Monday 20 March 2017
Life Memoir

memoir: particles

Emma Brooker
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None of it matters. The plastic, the gadgets, the high glossed magazines; the heels with the right brand name, faded out on the soles, from all the running you do to keep in front. Things obtained to make life easier, dull a pain, stroke an ego; to make you feel like you mean something while you hurl…
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Monday 20 February 2017
Featured Memoir

memoir: the blister

Emma Brooker
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It was a painful blister, on the arc of my right foot. It was one that had stopped me wearing closed in shoes for a week. It was red raw and puffed up and as big as a 20 cent piece. It had happened as all good blisters do. Having fun. My husband and I…
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Wednesday 7 December 2016
Memoir

memoir: she

Emma Brooker
2 comments

  Thinking about it all, every last drop of it. She kind of died in a way, without actually ceasing to exist. Without a funeral. Without a kiss goodbye. Not a black dress in sight. Instead, a slow, heart-breaking realisation she wasn’t who she once was and never would be again. Dead, at least to…
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Wednesday 30 November 2016
Health Memoir

memoir: the bottom of the hill

Emma Brooker
3 comments

  Hills and more hills as far as the eye can see. On the outskirts of town, they ebb and they flow. Looking like a far off distant land you could easily explore and conquer like a Burke and Wills expedition. Why is it you feel like screaming and crying and dying as you walk…
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