‘I'd already begun to suspect that sex brought misery or death, and now I knew.’
Wheer wor’ ta bahn w’en Ah saw thee,
On Ilkla Moor baht ’at?
Wheer wor’ ta bahn w’en Ah saw thee?
Wheer wor’ ta bahn w’en Ah saw thee?
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Ariel Saramandi on her experience teaching in a lycée in Mauritius.
Fiction by Sidik Fofana, set in the South.
Kevin Maxwell on the police in the UK.
Morgan Parker and Rachel Long in conversation.
Poetry by Danez Smith, author of Don't Call Us Dead.
‘One by one they’re led into the box. They swear their oath. They confirm their name, their employment, why they were where they say they were, what it was they saw.’
‘My hopes weren’t high, even to begin with, so I felt no bitterness when He didn’t reveal Himself’
‘When young, we were impatient with our parents: now we want to atone for our callowness, to take measure of them, to understand which parts of them live on in us.’
Wheer wor’ ta bahn w’en Ah saw thee, On Ilkla Moor baht ’at? Wheer wor’...
‘Skirtless, jumperless, she lies on the floor, her hair settling about her like a silky parachute.’
These photographs accompany Elena Lesley’s dispatch from Anlong Veng, Cambodia.
