Ania Walwicz was a no bullshit sort of a person. She would never harp on things. She’d just say her one or two sentences on a matter, in a slightly inquisitive, curious way, finish it off with a ‘good-o’, and then change the subject with a ‘so…’ She’d move on from a conversation long before I was ready to. I like to analyse, dissect until an answer reveals itself. Ania would plant questions in my mind, send me home with theories, ideas and perspectives to churn over.

We have lost a great creative mind. I always felt like there was more to learn from her. If I knew she was going to leave this world I would have asked her so many questions. Ania taught me poetry back in 2009 at RMIT but even after we became friends, and up until our last walk at the start of September in Fitzroy gardens, I still referred to her as my poetry teacher. We were friends, good friends, but I had so much admiration and respect for her I couldn’t call her anything else.