There’s a stretch of road leaving Wanaka where if you look to the left you see small square boxes floating on the lake, and to the right you see THIS IS A WORK SAFE WORK SITE FOR SALE, writes Liz Breslin.
The thing about this is that I’m thinking in bursts. I need to not think about it but there’s nothing else I can think about, writes Liz Breslin.
It’s time to face up to it. Face the facts. The fact is there are too many headshots by far in the world, writes Liz Breslin.
Sometimes I’m not sure what my favourite season is because finishing a swim in the lake is like being born, rainbow leaves on the track are a joy, snow is a miracle and lambs are cute, but this year I’m really clear, writes Liz Breslin.
Fun fact, or not so fun, depending on which side of the destruction you’re on, writes columnist Liz Breslin.
We met in the summer of 1999 in Perth. We partied like it was, too. And we talked. Kat had The Book of Questions, which she gifted to me when one of us left, and through it we, and the rest of the...
A lockdown habit I’ve kept, as I walk along the lake track each day, is to take a camera snap of the expanse of beach and send it to extraordinary friends in exotic places - Luggate, Wellington, Melbourne, writes Liz Breslin.
Being a child of maths teachers, I have been known to find solace and surety in numbers, writes Liz Breslin.
"The chi inside is the same as the chi outside. There is only this chi, and we are a part of this chi."
This week the postie brought me a yellow-beige book-shaped packet. And I was excited, because surely, surely it was my long-awaited copy of The Tree and the Vine, writes Liz Breslin.
Hello, I’m a nice regular white person from a white town and I’m not a racist, but I’m getting a bit worried about all these racists on the news. What should I do? writes columnist Liz Breslin.
This week I had that flat-tyre feeling. I’m not talking in metaphors here - but in the actual factuals of trying to get through the day by getting on a bike, writes Liz Breslin.
You haven’t hugged a friend in weeks. You’re starting to feel like one of those experimental monkeys from the ’60s who would choose a fluffy cuddle over a bottle of milk, writes Liz Breslin.
OK, so I peaked too soon. Day one and I was already vacuuming little pockets of home-hacked hair from my carpet, writes Liz Breslin.