‘At nine o’clock the man leaves the flat dressed in an elegant salmon-pink dress’.
FRIDAY A.M.
Silence except for the ticking of the alarm clock. The bedroom is in darkness though thin shafts of sunlight penetrate through cracks in the curtains from a big east-facing window and alight on the thick dark carpet. The door leading into a narrow passage and the rest of the flat faces n…
Sign in to Granta.com.
‘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.
‘‘Order is half of life’ – and the other half? – You get one guess.’
Extracts from Peter Handke’s notebook, translated by Peter Kuras.
‘Last year father attacked me as a “wet radish”. This caused me to give up writing diary entries.’
‘I was reassured to see that my hotel does not resemble the one in The Shining.’
‘The nun beside me on the helicopter this morning had a tight, self-righteous face.’
