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Full Moon on a Dark Night

Soumya Sankar Bose

A new photo-essay by Soumya Sankar Bose that recreates the dreams of his LGBT friends in India.

Breasts: A History

Krys Malcolm Belc

‘My breasts are shrinking. As my fat redistributes it settles in my belly and leaves my chest.’

Cowboys and Angels

Chelsea Bieker

‘I had me a cowboy once on a hot steam Friday night.’ New fiction from Chelsea Bieker.

Cassiopeia (three back-to-front songs)

Diana Anphimiadi

‘Anyway, I did not die. / I lined the sky, inside-out.’ Translated from the Georgian by Jean Sprackland and Natalia Bukia-Peters.

Of Donuts I Have Loved

Miranda Dennis

‘Krispy Kremes melt at the touch, are tender and loving, are used by my family to perform a wholeness we do not always feel’

Every Day Was Ordinary

Joshua Jennifer Espinoza

‘A life is an open thing / leaking out into / the air around it.’

A Few Words about Fake Breasts

Nell Boeschenstein

‘You repeat this over and over. You pinch your nipples harder. Then harder and harder still. You twist them. You dare them to say Mercy. You stare into your own eyes that are watching you from the mirror.’

A Summer of Japanese Literature

Dan Bradley

From manga to crime fiction, contemporary literature to Nobel-Prize-winning classics, here are ten works of Japanese literature worth spending your summer on

I Bite My Friends

Fernanda Eberstadt

‘The Easter Parade is winding down, when I spot Him. Her. Them. The Apparition.’

Telling My Story

Stella Duffy

‘I wonder if they could all smell the queer on me, the queer in me, the burgeoning sexuality that I had no words for at the time.’

I’ve Seen the Future, Baby; It Is Murder

Tara Isabella Burton

‘It was not very comfortable, but the appeal of it was that we did not like each other.’

Zeus

Fiona Benson

‘days I talked with Zeus / I ate only ice / felt the blood trouble and burn / under my skin’

What Do Women Want?

Devorah Baum

‘What we’re arguing about turns out to be how to speak to each other at all.’

Perfidious Albion

Sam Byers

‘In terms of aspiration, leaving London was the new moving to London. You slogged it out, made a name for yourself, then decamped to the sticks and devoted yourself to trashing city life on Twitter while roaming the fields in pursuit of your tweedy ideals.’