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#1: What if we abolished time? We can rethink our roles as being “post” colonial and instead posit them as needing to be anti-colonial. What is a position of being anti something was instead a site of positivism in this instance, in that it cracked open the possibility of undoing categorisations like Past, Present, Future.
#1: Time often feels like constant and endless repetition. Filling up time by staying within the confines of categories, binaries.
#1: An anti-colonial stance requires a material commitment to the political realities of representation.“Anti-colonialism requires a rupture and a positive awareness of the way colonial representation has shaped and misshaped, reality for colonisers and colonised alike”. [9]
#1: Changes with the passage of time happen only at the level of individual existence. In comparison to a vast universe, on the other hand, nothing changes because “nothing ever happens”.
#2: The face of afraid keeps changing constantly, and I can count on that change

as the ecstatic sonic east charges the yarra valley vines
each in their own time
a greek zeybekiko in 9/8
an italian tarantella in 6/8
a turkish ciftetelli in 2/4
a lebanese dabke in 4/4
i tremble in awe
as we call on the past
and the singer stands tall and gets taller as the show goes on
tall and taller
Take the days that tasted of salt



Fold them gently through
the year that tasted mostly of
fifteen different jars of honey and
several glasses of wine.



Sometimes, an event can happen between two or more people, where energy condenses and becomes a kind of matter.
This kind of simultaneity is a very quick process. 


This kind of simultaneity is a very quick process. 
An emotion can grow out of this and, if strong enough, can become a symbol we carry with us. 
When Vincent Wilson was a teenager in the late 1970s, he moved to Auckland from Samoa with his mother, sister and brother. A decade later, he was raising me between the swamp Kauri forests of Northland, and the stereo.
 
In the beginning, extra-terrestrials discovered planet Earth. While they were here they discovered the beauty of nature, but couldn’t adapt because they were spiritual forms. So they decided to build a machine to carry out their vision for what they saw on Earth. That machine was the human body.
The goal for us is to find those extra-terrestrials. They created us so we could trace the roots of where we come from. It’s something I can believe in. Something greater than myself that keeps me connected to myself. I am the result of these stories, and a brown nerd.
Dan has woven these words into one kete: Space Māori, Astronesians, Polyfuturists, South Pacific Futurists. This kete, we’ve decided, describes Māori who imagine, create or are receptive to ideas that play with, and sometimes even obliterate, the boundaries of technology and time.
I don't have much memory of making it (see: eclipse) but I do remember the feeling of flow that happens when you're in the zone. The more I read about futurism the more I knew this was my story too.
I once had a name. I was the architect. Compartmentalised each and every hour and kept the pride of our family’s order. I paved the suburbs for you and his lover, the aggregate a grain of solitude. That is why I’m standing at the wasteland. With an empty basket. That’s the true north which leads the compass round in concentric circles and abandons the roads, and paths we planned.
Pieces of heritage, pieces of graffiti listed as
Untouchable
You know this site is red listed.
Don’t eat the fennel or drink the Wai!
A dump / a carpark / a retirement village
No, I carry the basket of our histories
I will lie in this awa
In the last rays of Tama-nui-te-rā
let it be said, let it be told













 

















 

The karanga is a call which invites manuhiri to whakaeke mai bringing with you also and through you, your ancestors.

A karanga represents the destabilisation of western constructs of time.


Ancestors long passed flow in and out of our bodies providing a material way in which we can map ourselves as being many, of being made of many and of those bodies flowing through the whenua to hongi with each other, resisting binaries.


Our bodies are conduits between these notions of time.



The sun rises over one fin in Tauranga and sets over the other in Taranaki 
and here in Tāmaki we are held in between 



we journey to the places our ancestors observed the sun 
to see the world as they did this part unchanged
though decades passed between their lifetimes and ours 
Tama-Nui-Te-Rā continues his passage every day 
as he did before them, as he will after us 
a rhythmic anchor mooring us across time and space 


Coast-to-coast, west to east, the winds sweep across the islandfish from one fin to the other 
and here we are held in between by the roots that bind the shifting dunes 
until we can follow their path again

 

4
 



 

 


Arielle Walker & Emily Parr

 

Chi Tran




Ender Baskan



Hana Pera Aoake



 

 

 

James Tapsell-Kururangi

 

 


Mashara Wachjudy



Sophie Yana
Wilson

 

 

Lieu Journal acknowledges that the violence of white supremacy, whether overt or insidious, has been actively practised for centuries, and continues to be today - and we stand in solidarity with Bla(c)k, POC and First Nations people in the struggle against systemic oppression.

Lieu Journal denounces the platforming of alt-right, white supremacist and colonial ideologies including those exhibited in 'People of Colour' by Mercy Pictures. We commit to ongoing acts of unsettling, and to always honouring the knowledge and practices of First Nations peoples.

Lieu Journal stands in solidarity with the LGTBQIA+ community and, at this time, re-affirm our dedication to ensuring safe, inclusive discourse and spaces with queer communities.