Riding the train into Melbourne a couple of mornings ago, I check into Facebook and scroll through one of the Papua New Guinea discussion pages I visit most days.
I’m transported a long way from the Glen Waverley line, deep into the wild, random cyberstream of plugged-in PNG – gossip, news, activism and (frequently) prayers from a country that has become something of a fascination.
Around Kooyong, a dark-skinned young woman materializes in my palm. There’s something wrong with her face – her eyes, wide open, are too far apart, is she disfigured? I look closer.
Her head has been sliced open, ...