Life has brought me to Canberra for the winter, where I’ve assembled temporary office in the National Library of Australia. The main reading room has been refurbished in designer shades of orange and green, and the temperature is just cool enough to be slightly uncomfortable; that is, to prevent me from resting my head in my arms and napping the afternoons away.

In this strange bubble of a city, my local IGA sells the Quarterly Essay at the checkout. A young punk next to me on the bus to Belco buries her head in sex positive classic The Ethical Slut. I’ve been establishing new reading habits, but I’ve found myself implicated in a new reading culture as well.