By Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé
I write because the world is a weird damn place, and I’m just trying to make some sense out of it. I do this by writing out even weirder stuff—precognitive talking fish, a hyper-invasive bird park, belligerent alcoholic wombats, a man who copes with the death of his daughter by dressing like a superhero—yet by literalising these metaphors, strange as they are, it seems to add some meaning to the world.