My office is my safe place, but it also takes me to many spaces. I have surrounded my desk with postcards, posters, and images that I have collected since my childhood days. Some have been blue tacked in my teenage bedroom, others I stuck to walls when share housing across Naarm. When I look up from the screen, they permit me to travel in many directions. A postcard of Tony Albert’s ASH ON ME takes me to the National Gallery of so-called Australia in Ngunnawal country where I grew up. Magazine cut-outs of Antonio Gaudi’s Casa Batlló remind me of tripping along Barcelona’s streets. Brochures of archives and exhibitions I have visited in the USA pull me back to ongoing research projects about migrancy and artistic life. A front page of the defunct newspaper Ελλάδα – Greek Times takes me to an era before I entered this world. It forces me to consider my political routes and roots. Being surrounded by a self-created mini archive of visual culture helps me write. When writing is hard – as it often is – I look up at this assortment of images. They allow me to remember who I was and where I’ve been. They also guide me to new horizons.