‘The finance officers read the answers in silence, then returned them to be burned.’
Terry Winters sat at the kitchen table of his three-bedroom house in the suburbs of Sheffield, South Yorkshire. His three children were squabbling over their scrambled eggs. His wife was worrying about the washing and the weather. Terry ignored them. He took an index card from the right-hand pocket …
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.
‘When we talk about history, the dangers of embellishment, fabrication and wilful distortion are ever-present’
‘The song, the voice, and the heat; men on their knees, heads in hands, sobbing and now howling.’
‘The whole arc of the failed promise of development became legible in the traces of the gold rush.’
James Pogue reports from the gold mines of Mauritania.
‘The town’s fate was tied to poor development and ecological disaster.’
Amitava Kumar visits a Himalayan town.
‘The water was chilly and sweet – cold enough to stay with me and make me shiver while I did some shopping later.’
