I was 14 years old when I began my fourth year at Sandringham Technical School in 1964. By this time my mother had been banned from the bathroom during my naked necessities, and I had reached the very serious decision that if masturbation made you go blind – then so be it.
“Do we have a wok?” he yelled.
Conner made his way through the shelving, pushing his cart full of books to be returned to the shelves. He’d been working at the State Library now for a few months and loved the place. The history, the architecture, the books. A small part of him always kept a lookout for an unused room that he could perhaps move into and live here. No-one would probably notice if he did, but every single room, nook, and cranny was occupied. At times, he thought he could hear the whole building creak and groan under the pressure of containing all these words, pictures, artefacts; as if the addition of one more item would cause the building to rend apart and spread pages fluttering down across the city.