Artist/Writer- Olivia Palmer
My name is Olivia Palmer. I am a 12 year old girl in the seventh grade, my first year of high-school with extensive ambition’s. I savour each birthday on the 9 of September.
My family stretches into quantities of people, however, I live with my mother, father and little sister. We’re all abnormally hysterical on household vacations, but, more traditionally, camping at Paradise Valley. I am unique when owing to my freckles.
I want to become a Doctor, because, being offered the chance to assist patients as my career will provide me joy, to exist as a doctor is one of many ways I can help change the world. During my spare time I long to write chapter books, and, perhaps, illustrate picture books. I think of myself as humorous, jolly, loud and unpredictable. At school I love writing, reason being, I like that I can control the outcome when deciding the contents.
My greatest phobia is octopuses, along side jelly fish and leeches, because, I generally fear things that stick to your body and my favourite movie is ‘The Hunger Games: Catching Fire’.
Olivia recognised as a Global Youth Leader, March 2021
2/2 👆— bitesizeSDGs (@bitesizeSDGs) March 18, 2021
Teamwork makes the dream work! 🤝@KambojAnanya @MarkusBurman @LucyHouliston @NairaMalhotra9 @TheWildlifeKid @LouiseMabulo @lillyspickup @FathiBashe @jgironna Olivia Palmer Baxter & Zander.@tblackTAB @Nicholajdm pic.twitter.com/XIGuRCbxsc
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She dries all my tears with her words. She leaves footprints for me to follow. She’s me blanket when I’m cold. She’s my windmill when there’s wind. She’s the title of my book and the colour on the pages. She is the beating in my heart. She’s my stomach and the knife and fork in my hand. She is my smile and my tears. She is the pictures in my frames and the drool on my bed. She’s the wings when I fly and the trunk for thousands of leaves, dry and ripe. She’s the fuel in my car. She’s my sunscreen when my suns out and my umbrella when my rains coming. She’s my Aunty Am. Light teethed its fingers through the window shutters. I sucked in air and swallowed it. The clock spewed a yellow light. I tried to pull apart the numbers on the clock but my sleepy eyes refused to make sense of the glow. Light teethed its fingers through the window shutters. I sucked in air and swallowed it. I ran my hand back and forth between the sheets. The clock spewed gold into the room. I tried to pull apart the time on the clock but my sleepy eyes refused to make sense of the glow. I blinked a few times, rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands and looked at the clock. It was seven. My aunt was buried under the blankets. I found where the blanket finished and shuffled out of bed. As swiftly as I could I dressed myself into this cloth that caught my dry skin when I massaged it. I smothered my lips with lip balm and pulled back my hair into a pony tail. My aunt choked in a gasped swallow and I watched through the mirror as she peeled open her puffy eyes. Her cheeks inflated and only slightly covered her squinting eyes. She was smiling in her familiar half-asleep way. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” I whispered with a dry throat. “No, you’re right, angel face. Your uniform looks beautiful.” “Yeah.” “I betta get up. Don’t want to be late on your first day of school!” “I can’t wait.” Aunty Am dressed in a navy, white stripped dress that draped over her knees. The doona had been scrambled on top of the wrinkled sheets. We tucked it into the bed and folded the top back onto the blanket. Aunty Am packed me a brownie and I cooked Weet-Bix that steamed over the bowl. Click! The flash light split into the air. My Aunts arm around my shoulder and as I was enveloped in her warmth, butterflies made circles in my stomach but giddies made waves in my smiles. One leg in-front of the other. My Aunt’s fingers tangled with mine. The school drew closer. My aunt squizzed my hand. I squizzed her hand back. I felt more excited than nervous, maybe it’s because the principle showed me where to go, maybe it’s because I’ve already been here for an entire day on my own, or maybe it’s because I’ve done the new day of school thing before, or maybe, because my Aunt is here, and as I stand side by side with her, I know that it is only because she’s here. I love you Aunty Am.
Arnold I drown in his heavy breath which smells like dry dog food, grass, raw meat and dirt so hard you can knock on it. When I can taste something thin and wiry that tickles the back of my throat I know I have consumed Arnolds hair. Sheets of Arni’s hair drapes like a curtain over the house, like being swallowed by a snow storm. His jaw claps shut again and again and again, whilst he tries to bite the water that funnels from the hose. And as my fingers grate the sandy and dripping hose that sags over the shell shaped pool, the water that tastes like rubber and metal rises under a foamy layer of bubbles where the hose water spits and dribbles in the bowl. The sun dances on my arm hairs as Arni soaks the dirt and grass around the pool. His pale gold fur is matted and stringy. His body bobbing up and down in the water. His legs cranked in to push himself forward. The rivers mouth is wide open. And on top of the rocks is slimy hair, that smells like grass and sap, and when you squeeze it, green juice drools down your hand. When Arni’s paws find the rocks and he leaves his paw print for the sun to bleed into the water, he shakes his body and when he goes still again his tail wags right to the very last hair. Orbs of water rain onto the floor of rocks, like a pistol shooting bullets. But it doesn’t stop there, he rolls on his back in the long grass, his legs in the air and his head twisted down his side, nearly touching his tail, flattening out the green fingers trying to swallow him whole. I love him, that dopy dog that had Aunty Am lay towels all over the house, that teared up a toy the minute he got, that leaves scratches as long a pencil’s on your legs. I love you Arni.
Peace Advocate Speech
“What is a ‘Human Right’…?” It’s a security, it’s a freedom, its peace. Let’s acknowledge reality. People are being forced into slavery and receiving unfair wages. People are being wrongly imprisoned and imposed to exist as refugees. People feel overpowered by governments and administrations and feel voiceless, but change isn’t made by people whom feel voiceless and neither is history. But everyone has a voice, the words just need a place in a sentence. And that’s why I’m here. The higher management has concluded the unbalance of deaths and births. The average amount of deaths is increasing. So authorities have demanded women, primarily teenagers, to benefit from $4,000 if pursued as mothers. Its bribery, consumerism and further research confirms this. What would you do with your money? Phone update, newest TV, shiny car. Truth be told the money would be gone within a matter of days. Besides, baby necessities can’t pay for themselves. My point is money isn’t everything. People can’t afford clean water, and this is a natural Human Right. Where is Money going? Definitely not to the people that need it most. Privacy effects, not few, but all of us. It’s a right we all need. When someone interferes with your reputation it leaves a scar on the internet. You can’t undo it. This is why it’s a priority to take all privacy precautions seriously. However, some privacy problems are out of our hands. There is no law to determine ones seclusion, only a mere understanding of its wrong. Everybody has the right to belong to a religion. Everyone has the right to property. Everyone has the right to leisure and rest from work. Everyone is human, despite your gender, colour and religion. Girls have the right to education. We are recognized by male and female, apparently equal, apparently fifty-fifty, and apparently level. This is what the world should be. Instead we fail these standards. We have rules to stay in line. But what line is divided by women and men? I’m not here to tell you what needs to change, only what we’re going to change. Yet maybe saying what I’m going to do isn’t enough. It needs to be done. The world is good for you, so what reason do you need to change the way you live. You don’t have one. So how do the people willing to find the new world see it without your eyes and voice? It’s like a puzzle. You are all a piece of the puzzle. Put everyone together and we can see and enjoy what it looks like. Still why would you help. I did think like this and still do, because, how would I know how this feel’s and what it’s like. Picture leaving your home, your country, even your beloved family, carrying a minimum of money. You’re surrounded by people you don’t know but feel so alone. People have been here. What will you do now? Help make the change. You can, because it doesn’t hurt or effect you but only helps the people in need of your help.