One night in 2011 I drove to Melbourne airport. The freeway was deserted. Something about the bittersweet solitude of being sealed inside a car, of passing through darkened suburbs but not stopping, had grown in me a deep melancholy. The world looked lovely, lonely and glistening. Because I didn’t want to pull into Arrivals too glum, I leaned over to switch on the radio for company. The station was ABC Radio National and a program was in motion. I listened as a man said,
The term ‘child molestation’ doesn’t begin to describe what happened next. When I think ‘child molestation’, I think inappropriate touching. I think fondling. What happened next wasn’t fondling. It was rape.
Details / PDF:
The full-text PDF of this article can be purchased from Informit.