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The House on El Estero

Fernanda Melchor

‘The girl vomited with rage as Jorge recited the prayer. She struggled and squirmed, kicked and spat.’

A story by Fernanda Melchor, translated by Sophie Hughes.

The Chosen Death of the Witch

Lucy Ives

‘He came to see, after a long agony, that it would be best to give it up.’

A new story by Lucy Ives.

Death is not here

Wouter Van de Voorde

Concerned with the uneasy boundary that emerged between life and death during the pandemic, Death is not here takes fossilisation and excavation as its theme.

Photography by Wouter Van de Voorde.

Amalur

Liadan Ní Chuinn

‘So maybe I knew for a while that I loved my boyfriend’s family and not him.’

Fiction by Liadan Ní Chuinn.

Two Poems

Michael Bazzett

‘It was a commonplace / to enter the woods / with meat, lay it on the ground, then / wait for what might come.’

Poetry by Michael Bazzett.

On Marguerite Duras

Kate Zambreno

‘Everyone says you were beautiful when you were young.’

Kate Zambreno on Marguerite Duras.

What Feathers Know

Stephen Rutt

‘I see a gull in a car park and they can see the place where it metabolised water into feathers, food into energy, oxygen into blood.’ Stephen Rutt on what isotopes can tell us about birds.

Four Poems

Katie Farris

‘Ungraceful, the heart boinks: / drugged, suspended, spiderwebbed – ’

Four poems by Katie Farris.

Two Poems

Claudine Toutoungi

‘Most of us these days are dead or on autopilot / As for the wolves – they thrive’

Two poems by Claudine Toutoungi.

Introduction

Sigrid Rausing

‘What precisely is the sibling relationship, and how does it shape our lives?’

The editor introduces the autumn issue.

O Brother

John Niven

‘Up on the light box on the wall are the scans of Gary’s brain, bone white standing out against smoked grey.’

John Niven remembers the last days of his brother, Gary.

The Durhams

Ben Pester

‘We have this space and we have permission to summon each other into it. Sibspace.’

Fiction by Ben Pester.

Nightstand

Natalie Shapero

‘you gotta see this truck that ignored the height sign / on the underpass and now it’s lodged like an overlarge pill’

A poem by Nathalie Shapero.

Plastic Mothers

Lauren John Joseph

‘In essence she acted as though I were the kid her mother had left her to raise.’

Lauren John Joseph on the blurred contours of motherhood.