‘Chinechelum said little as her mother drove her to the airport.’
Chinechelum said little as her mother drove her to the airport. She looked out of the window, at the trees whose leaves had turned the colour of a ripe banana, or a berry-red, and others that had shed all their leaves and stood with their naked branches sticking up. It was one of the things she like…
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‘The anglophone world, we have to infer, has run out of words for its own feelings.’
Daisy Hildyard on the wisdom of scarecrows.
‘What is the read receipt for?’
Lillian Fishman on texting, power and the ethics of leaving a friend on read.
‘Like pretty much everyone who uses the internet, I have seen many terrible things that I did not search for and that I cannot unsee.’
Rosanna McLaughlin on what the internet thinks she wants.
‘I have a pathological addiction to the internet, which I indulge with the excuse of making art. It rarely translates to anything good and mostly leaves me overstimulated and afraid.’
Paul Dalla Rosa on excess and the internet.
‘rumors of bees on speedwell, / no oxidative stress just / effortless pollination’
Two poems by Sylvia Legris.
‘I like to think now that he knew how much I liked him, from the beginning, and that we were both equal participants in the ritual.’
‘Kamara had always resented the glamour of half-castes.’
‘His accent was what the British called posh, the kind some rich Nigerians tried to mimic and ended up sounding unintentionally funny.’
‘The Master was a little crazy; he had spent too many years reading books overseas’
‘How do you love a monster when they are no longer monstrous?’
New fiction by Diana Evans.
‘The way we manage erotic knowledge is connected to our handling of unwanted truths’
