Nick Whittock is a previously unpublished writer from coastal and rural New South Wales, Australia.
He studied at the University of Technology, Sydney, and currently lives in Elwood, Melbourne. He
is a reader for Meanjin.





On Ethical Conduct

there is a car parked near a tree
the rear of the car is
approximately one and a
half metres from the tree
the tree is growing out of a small
patch of ill-kept grass
this is surrounded by a half ring of
carefully placed stone blocks
these blocks are quite colourful
in the space between the car and
the grass circle where the tree is growing
out of the ground is asphalt
this is an attractive space
there is room enough here for a
person or even two people
abreast to easily walk through and in
a way one feels compelled
at this point to leave the footpath
and walk for a time along the road
there is little traffic







Adaptation (Environmental Ethics)

it has been raining and
all the seats in the park are wet
but eventually I am able to find a
corner of one that I can perch
myself on without my trouser bottoms
becoming too damp or my balance
too precarious as I eat my lunch
there is one other person in the park
and they have also been wandering
around though now they are striding back
across the grounds in the opposite direction
to that from which they approached







Mutation and Replication:
The Ethical Evolution of Form

A baked bean has fallen out of my jaffle. It has
come to rest on the other half of the jaffle
which is still on my plate. The piece I am
eating, which I am holding near to my mouth,
fortunately has a jagged piece of crust with
which I am able to spear the errant baked bean
and carry it to my lips. It has, so to speak, an
in built fork mechanism. The cheese in my
jaffle is rather viscous. It is barely, anymore,
now that it is melted, yellow. The cheese on
this jaffle is wet cheese, there was no more
proper cheese left, it was all we had in the
fridge. It sticks to my teeth and it is gently
upsetting my stomach. I have by now, or, that
is, I have just at this moment begun crunching
on the darkly browned crusty remnants of the
first triangular half. It has a faint taste of
charcoal and, strangely, this taste is settling
my stomach. After some breaths I am able to
take up the second triangle and begin finishing
off my lunch. When only two or three bites into
this portion a single bean, from out of the
jaffle's aperture, again falls to my plate. It
makes a small, dirty orange smear on the beige
glazing. I am astonished to find that, just as
before, there is a piece of pointed crust which
is perfectly able to act as a fork for the
retrieval of this bean. I find this continuity
between the two halves actually amusing. I even
laugh a little to myself as I suck the bean in
question from its excessively toasted prong. By
the time I have finished the entire jaffle I am
quite sick of the taste of the cheese. My
stomach feels weighed down as though I have
been eating soft plastic. I am aware, all the
same, that I have enjoyed the experience. It was
a good snack.







Pura Milk's Ethically Binding Agreement with its Beneficiary


imagine a cow morphing into a cricket
ball

its stained leather hide flying
and zinging

as it proceeds
towards the batsman

the bowler's creams are marked
with red dye

the field is the pasture the white fielders
are grazing upon

ready for the bull

the batsman is facing a situation
of vital importance

under immense pressure he is carefully farming
the strike

his partner is not renowned for his defensive
abilities

his reputation suggests rather
agricultural stroke play

could be his preference
the cow-shot his favourite shot

the fielders moove in or retreat
to the boundary fence

accordingly flowing about

it seems with all this fluidity and
all the whiteness

cricket is, in essence,
pure.






(GLOSSARY)

Pura: a brand of milk
moove: a brand of flavored milk