Nora is forty-seven, divorced three years, and laughs like she means it. She wears chunky turquoise rings and smells like sandalwood and rain. My wife, Claire, wears sensible fleece, smells of daycare hand sanitizer, and sighs more than she laughs these days.
After a long day of listening to screaming and crying, a compliment feels like a glass of cold water in hell. The temptation isn’t to sleep with them (that’s a career suicide, and rightly so). The temptation is to enjoy it . To let the comment hang in the air for one second too long. To not correct the boundary immediately because, for a fleeting moment, you feel wanted instead of just used.
That was the first crack. Humor that bends toward truth.
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James Makin Gallery recognises the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin Nation as the sovereign custodians of the land on which we operate. We pay our respects to their elders past, present and emerging.
