Your readers may or may not know, that there are two active groups within the shire who advocate on behalf of refugees in our community and in the broader socio-political context. The Bega Valley Rural Australians for Refugees and the Social Justice Advocates.

It seems like a knee jerk reaction and an expression of ignorance by Councillor Nadin to be making a proposal to remove the signs from the shire, without first consulting with people from these two groups, people who have direct contact with refugee families and the issues that they face.

I convene the local Bega Valley Rural Australians for Refugees group.

We meet monthly and would welcome the opportunity to discuss how council could live more fully into its commitment to being a Welcome Town for Refugees.

Education and modelling of support for diversity and tolerance are key to eliminating racism and ignorance in our community.

I do not support Cr Nadin's motion, it seems like the lazy way out.

The Bogong didn't travel this year.

I have packed them up and put them in my suitcase.

Perhaps I missed a few, or not.

I got thirty species of mammals and 24 of birds in just 200 years in Australia.

Tucked them into a corner.

I have my eye on a lot more.

Those pretty Golden Shouldered Parrots will go in soon.

The polar bears are going very hungry.

I'll get them soon, along with the sea birds who are ingesting bits of plastic and then disgorging them into their chicks.

Painful way to go.

They'll be ready to come with me soon.

The wild things will go first.

The forests are shrinking and the waters aren't sweet any more, so no escape for them really.

I'll leave the humans for a bit. They're very numerous at the moment. I have already taken some of the indigenous ones.

I feel a bit sorry about that as they kept everything in a rather nice balance, not like the current lot.

Then there's the ones the humans breed to eat, cows, sheep and chickens mainly. They can wait till a later trip. I'll need a much bigger bag for the humans and their food.

I wont bother with the cockroaches. A bit hard to gather up, scurrying about everywhere, deep under crumbled concrete and in the remnants of forests.

Well, back to work. Maybe the leadbeater's possum and the koala can go in next.

My name is Extinction and we're travelling to Oblivion.

(This writing, good bad or indifferent, I dedicate to the students striking for action on climate change.)

My mum had a stroke in July 2015. She became paralysed on her right side, incontinent and unable to talk - except for 'yes', which often meant 'no'. She could cry.

I can't fault the nursing home, but during the 1575 occasions I visited her I realised there are limits to medicine. Pain, suffering and agony. By April 2018, Mum had learned to say "I die". I heard this for 88 visits, usually for the whole time, even while she ate.

Mum is free of her three-year ordeal, freed from the horror, but I have the memory of it. I intend in every future election to give my first vote to any voluntary assisted dying party. I could not save my mum, but I can contribute to a future when others can be spared a terrible life.