A kōrero with pip adam
pip adam[1] is a fiction writer and podcaster living in Te Whanganui-a-Tara. She is interviewed by writer and lecturer,Whiti Hereaka.
The Doyles
1 Number Six is a small house, in a quiet street. Two rows of working-men’s cottages, marching down a hill.
Narrow Motorway to the Interior
A week or two before my ferry to Te Waipounamu, I discovered that Badr Shākir al-Sayyāb—the man, the poet I’ve studied and translated for six years—hated Jews.
Weathering
In the late days of winter, when the light begins to retreat, my body begins its annual revolt.
Galloping at the Estuary
Note: This essay contains mentions of suicide that readers may find distressing.
Sugar Mountain
The day Genie disappeared, the smell of the pond scum clung to your nostrils, as if rot itself had found a way in.
The Mosaic Garden
It was just such a shame. Next door, huge orange and black Caterpillars were chewing through Ho’s remarkable garden.
The Bridge: After Natalia Ginzburg
His black hair waterfalled to his waist. His scent, frangipani and coconut, transported me. He said he remembered my eyes. Blue. “It was déjà vu.
Draw Me In
Many years ago, I pinned a black and white poster to my lounge wall and I don’t think I’ll ever tire of studying it from my armchair opposite.
The Radiant Life of my Downstairs Neighbour
My new neighbour arrived on a humid summer morning, parked her rental van in the driveway, and started unloading boxes right onto the footpath.
Her Entire Sense of the World
The new colour bubbled up through the sea at dusk on a Sunday. It was like the aurora, if all the tints and tinges were mixed together.