Summer in Tasmania brings fire, heat, long evenings — and the sound of lawn mowers drifting through the valley. What used to be background noise has become an invitation: a way of listening that shifts how the world feels and how I inhabit it. This piece explores attention as participation, spirit as presence, and the subtle animacy that reveals itself when we lean in.

A rediscovered garage on a city street sent me spiralling into questions of agency and sentience. Does a building act? Can a doorway want to return? Somewhere between “mashed potato and fuck you”, I found a reminder that words shape how we meet the living world — and sometimes, how the world meets us back.