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The world felt a lot brighter thirteen years ago. The days felt sunnier, the sky felt bluer, the future felt safer and the time went slower.

The sun doesn’t feel like it shines as bright anymore. The world feels like it’s collectively dimmed, the beauty of daily life diluted by the poison of sanitisation. The headiness of aspiration and love has been reduced to a cyclical merry-go-round of anxieties and existential insecurity.

Thirteen years ago, we knew less, but we also knew more. We knew less about the useless, panic-inducing frivolities that consume most of our days. …


Imagine for a moment a small and innocent young girl, perhaps 6 or 7 years of age. She could be your daughter, your niece, your granddaughter, or your baby sister. What do you see when you look at her? Purity, playfulness? An unabashed curiosity, a delightfully raw sense of inquisitive naïveté, a gleeful spirit whose dreams and aspirations you want to nurture, celebrate and protect?

Or do you see the true reality of what this monstrous being is? Do you look into her unblemished face and concede that this child is an object of danger to her society? Do you…


Statue of Iraqi President Saddam Hussein being pulled down in Baghdad’s al-Fardous square on April 9, 2003 (cred: MSNBC.com)
Statue of Iraqi President Saddam Hussein being pulled down in Baghdad’s al-Fardous square on April 9, 2003 (cred: MSNBC.com)
Iraqis watching a statue of Iraqi President Saddam Hussein as it is pulled down in Baghdad’s al-Fardous square on April 9, 2003. (cred: MSNBC.com)

In the age that worships at the altar of personality cults and deems western civilisation a fascist regime, attaining and maintaining respect has dissolved into but a vestige of our civilization’s mores, a lost art drifting into the realm of diminutive importance.

Authority was once defined as the dominant characteristic of influential leaders, as well as avatars of historical change or ideological revolution. The tide however is rapidly shifting, as we now live in the era of informational overload, where we can access troves of data affirming the shortcomings and moral failures of our leaders in the blink of an…


War of the woke.

The past 48 hours have given us an extraordinary insight into the hypocritical, crude PR opportunism that a violent, divisive race war can pose.

Never before has the artificial moral righteousness of vapid influencers, celebrities, and public figures outside of the United States been so critical to resolving fundamental institutionalised racism! What ever would we do without the virtue signalling efforts of hypocritical Australians who are far keener to join the bandwagon of ‘#BlackLivesMatter’ Instagram posts than to even briefly address the injustices of the same extent and frequency suffered by our Indigenous Aboriginal communities?

If no one else is…


The delegation of our inner journeys to the simulated realm behind the screen

One of the curious conundrums of our time seems to be that the easier life gets, the more coping mechanisms we need to function within our hyper convenient, modern realities.

Food, sex, and control; it’s the trifecta of resources that men were biologically hardwired to attain through strenuous, strategic and tangible means. The pursuit of resources and the subsequent status they conferred stimulated moderate releases of dopamine that served as indicators of the worthiness such objectives held- as well as a justification for the toilsome pursuit it took to get there.

Fast forward to 2018, and U.S wealth has grown…


“Put one hand on your heart, and the other hand right over your third eye”.

It was this sentence, crooned by a small, glowing, committed yoga instructor sitting on her mat, bestowing her pseudoscience before a roomful of broken, but certainly not broke yuppies, that awoke me from my stupor. More specifically, it awoke me from a long-lasting, emotional stupor, kept intact by giving certain other entities license to command the deepest of my thoughts and feelings.

In that very moment, I had officially clocked out from the suspension of my own real emotions. I was absolutely, completely done with…


On the economics of female immorality in the 21st century

When I was 18 years old, I spent some time in Dubai, living with my sister in her apartment in Downtown Dubai. The colossal Dubai Mall was a short stroll away, so most evenings I’d head to Kinokuniya in the mall. It was an enormous, magnificent bookstore that I’d get lost in for hours — and one of my favourite pastimes was rifling through overpriced poetry books, brimming with meaning and sentimentality. Of the hours I spent poring over prose in Kinokuniya, this short piece from Pierre Alex Jeanty’s ‘Her’ stood out to me, and stuck with me indefinitely.

For…

Seja A

Journalism student from Sydney, Australia. I am responsible for what I say, not what you understand. Navigating the ocean of manufactured modernity.

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