As a new migrant in Australia, 44 years ago at 11 pm after work, I got off the train at the station where I found myself alone with a large man who told me to go back to where I came from. His discriminatory words have stayed within me since, echoing long after the the rush of fear-induced adrenaline from the encounter left my body.  

I have tattooed multiple vellum supports with a poem referencing this enduring experience in eight widely spoken languages, and created a burning red neon light that literally reverses the words ‘GET OUT'.

. . .