Gail Jones’s short story “The Ocean” was published in 2013 as part of an anthology edited by Thomas Keneally and Rosie Scott. Entitled A Country Too Far: Writings on Asylum Seekers, this anthology aimed to ask “some of [the] most admired Australian writers to bring a different perspective and depth to the public debate on asylum seekers”. With “The Ocean”, Jones takes up the challenge quite successfully and, I may also add, quite literally or meta-discursively. The short story’s two interwoven narratives are articulated following an ebb-and-flow movement that enhances the text’s play with the notions of liquidity and time. This is reminiscent of French philosopher Michel Serres’s view of time as made of counter-currents, undertows and turbulences. These liquid folds allow for originally distant points – with no link whatsoever – to become close, superimposed. This then creates an effect of strangeness which Jones cultivates, as when she claims that, since “we’re always in a forward-backward rhythm, not often fully here in the present moment” and “our present is inflected and intercepted by the past and the future, pleated and folded,” this means that, “if we were to see our contemporary world with the eyes of the future, we might see it suddenly aestheticized and made endearingly strange”. By focusing on Jones’s play with perspectives, her narrativisation of folds, and the intertextual link with Primo Levi’s The Drowned and the Saved, my paper will seek to investigate how Jones’s writing not only claims an ethical and moral dimension but also takes up a political stance: it is by writing from multiple perspectives and thus forging unexpected connections, allowing people of different backgrounds, cultures and religions to interconnect, that Jones voices resistance to the narrow-mindedness of those who are privileged in today’s world-wide migration crisis.