Published in Overland Issue 220 Spring 2015 · Uncategorized Issue 220 Editorial team REGULARS Editorial Giovanni Tiso Mel Campbell Alison Croggon Contributors FEATURES Luke Stegemann Trouble on the hour, every hour The tensions in Europe’s borderlands Anonymous Statement of vindication Tracing misogynist-driven violence Jason Wilson A presence that disturbs Climate change: natural and inevitable Jennifer Mills Detroit, I do mind In capitalism’s graveyard Ken MacLeod Hard to be a god Hard to be a science fiction writer Anwen Crawford No place like home The fight for the waterfront David Lockwood A person of very little interest Things ASIO got wrong Fair Australia Prize Winners of the inaugural NUW Fair Australia Prize FICTION Zahid Gamieldien Pyrene Omar Musa No breaks POETRY john tranter The linden tree Young folly ellen van neerven Invisible spears kate lilley Austerity georgina woods Paradise losing michael farrell The bush and the internet are interchangeable sam langer A sky open and shut fiona wright Autumn poem frances olive Arcady corey wakeling Agora, Arcadia ARTWORK TAI SNAITH Editorial team More by Editorial team Overland is a not-for-profit magazine with a proud history of supporting writers, and publishing ideas and voices often excluded from other places. If you like this piece, or support Overland’s work in general, please subscribe or donate. Related articles & Essays First published in Overland Issue 228 1 June 20231 June 2023 · Politics Turning peaceful protesters into criminals—again Evan Smith So the Summary Offences (Obstruction of Public Places) Bill 2023 has been passed by South Australia’s Legislative Assembly and will become law. Fifteen hours of debate in the upper house, led by the Greens and SA Best, could not overturn the bill that was reportedly rushed through the lower house in just twenty-two minutes a fortnight ago. First published in Overland Issue 228 31 May 202331 May 2023 · Obituary In Memoriam: Kenneth Anger’s cinematic incantations Eloise Ross ‘Making a movie is casting a spell,’ said Kenneth Anger about his lifelong profession, his unique and spectacular talent, his very own dark magic. That certainly describes how I was lured into his realm. There was a time in my life where I would watch Anger’s seven-minute film Rabbit’s Moon basically on repeat, infatuated by its blue-tinted images of a sprightly harlequin dancing around a clearing and calling silently to the moon. It was poetry.
