View article

I was in my own strange country, our first Australian house - 10 Churchill Avenue, Bicton, Perth. It was a house, but was it a home? Was it our own personal culmination of great material ambition and success? It was a ghost house in some ways, a place we should never have owned. My father, a native of Melbourne returning to Australia from London and Kuala Lumpur after a ten-year hiatus, hardly ever lived there, and my mother, a Thai woman with a cosmopolitan background, hated it.