Sunday Lunches
My strongest childhood memories are not of places but of Sunday lunches: paprika-scented kitchens, opera drifting through open windows, and my father’s stories unfolding around the table.
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The GP Who Believed Me
Sometimes the most important intervention is not a medication or a procedure, but belief. This story reflects on illness, autonomy, and the GP who listened when others would not.
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Learning to Disappear
Sometimes the safest way to survive is not to be seen. A story of migration, belonging, and the strategies we develop to protect ourselves.
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We Got Lost on the Way Home
We were supposed to be going camping in Austria. Instead, we got lost on the way home. A story of family, migration, and the journey that brought us to Aotearoa New Zealand.
