We grow up
but do not comprehend life.
We think life is just the passing of time. The fact is,
life is one thing,
and time something else.
Sign in to Granta.com.
We grow up but do not comprehend life. We think life is just the passing...
We grow up
but do not comprehend life.
We think life is just the passing of time. The fact is,
life is one thing,
and time something else.
Sign in to Granta.com.
‘I think there should be a National Service of Hospitality. The best way to see the true face of humanity is to serve it a plate of chips.’
Camilla Grudova on bad-mannered customers.
‘Anyone who has ever worked night shifts will understand the vertiginous feeling that comes with staring down the day from the wrong end.’
A.K. Blakemore on working nights.
‘I was constantly reading job ads, trying to find my holy grail – a job I could stand to do, and someone foolish enough to hire me.’
Sandra Newman on learning how to play professional blackjack.
‘I loved being a receptionist. What I loved about it was playing the part of being a receptionist.’
Emily Berry on being a temporary office worker.
‘Every part of you would swell, including your eyeballs, and no matter how much water you drank, you were always dehydrated.’
Junot Díaz on working for a steel mill.
Hasina Gul is a broadcaster at Pakistan Broadcasting Corporation’s Peshawar station. She is the author of two collections of poetry – Shpoon Shpole Shpelai, Khutah Khabray Kava and Da Hum Hagasey Mausam Dey.
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‘I might walk endlessly’
A poem by Tahir Hamut Izgil, translated by Joshua L. Freeman.
‘My voice may grate your nerves again.’
A poem by Harryette Mullen.
‘Your friends might never know you intimately. There are those that will know you intimately but never be your friend.’
Jia Pingwa on friendship.
‘I promise you, the committee only looks at two things: how feasible a proposal is, and what it could actually do for the environment.’
A bureaucrat and an entrepreneur discuss environment-saving proposals in a short play by Si’an Chen, translated by Jeremy Tiang.
‘On the doorstep, in the glare of the security lamp, was a thin, bearded man holding a black, breathless terrier.’
Fiction by Joe Stretch.
‘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.
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