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.
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‘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.
‘I turn to O’Connor’s music when I get tired of lying to myself. Her songs are allegorical free-falls. Spiritual chiaroscuros, even.’
Momtaza Mehri on Sinéad O’Connor.
‘I lied about my age and I lied about my location and I lied about being horny.’
Fiction by Avigayl Sharp.
‘There can be any number of significant others in a life. Some we know for a long time; others are meteoric: we may see them only once.’
The editor introduces the issue.
‘Do they strike people as a strange couple? He does not know, does not care.’
Fiction by J.M. Coetzee.
‘Being recognised as part of a couple thrilled me; I felt legitimised. John had a life, a full life.’
Fiction by Sophie Collins.
