Sometimes Beautiful, Sometimes Magical

by Josephine Rowe

If she had looked up she would have seen it, and it would have reminded her that the world was sometimes beautiful, sometimes magical. But she was standing at a window eleven storeys above Nueve de Julio, and nobody looks up from that height. She looked down into the street and saw the crawling traffic and knew it was loud down there but none of the loudness came into her room. In the room it was silent, and her skin still smelled of airline hand sanitiser. She waited for the city to show her something beautiful or magical, and when there wasn’t anything she came away from the double paned window and lay on the bed. The glass shading the ceiling light was a concave frosted dish. Through the frosted glass she could see all the black specks where insects had crawled in and died under the hot light.


Josephine Rowe is a Melbourne based writer, whose first love is the very short story. Her collection, How a Moth Becomes a Boat, was published last year by Hunter Publishers. Read more at

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  1. #1 by Sonia Lal on June 23, 2011 - 11:27 pm

    Really like the last line for some reason, about the dead insects. I guess we need to look up more often, huh?

  2. #2 by marc nash on June 24, 2011 - 8:45 am

    Thought she was going to jump, but prefered your ending with the dead insect imagery way more

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