Andrea Pagliaro: In the mist at Ballan
In the mist at Ballan
She said that she would meet me there
Right on the station platform.
My train drew in
I looked out through the window,
And there in all the mist
There sweet faced she stood
Wrapped against the cold
Right there, right opposite.
As I jumped down from the train
She smiled, she smiled so kindly
But as I moved towards her
Not seven paces distant
She faded into whiteness
There before my eyes.
The train gave out a mournful hoot
Its windows well alight
But nowhere could I see her,
There just remained a faint perfume,
Perhaps an echo,
An echo of a gentle laugh;
And in the mist I shivered
As cold lips just faintly touched me.
Andrea Pagliaro
Madam: Archbishop Fisher (July-August 2024) does not resist the attacks on his church by the political, social or scientific atheists and those who insist on not being told what to do.
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6 mins
To claim Aborigines have the world's oldest continuous culture is to misunderstand the meaning of culture, which continuously changes over time and location. For a culture not to change over time would be a reproach and certainly not a cause for celebration, for it would indicate that there had been no capacity to adapt. Clearly this has not been the case
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23 mins
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2 mins