Documentary slag, the serial debris of his compulsive remigrations, litters his trail to the coldwater flat, crumbs for the wayward orphan. Letters, old bills, a lock of her red hair, trinkets, photos – a thousand eyes on him, all his own. His tears disturb not one pool, but an infinite regression…
Lucky Pierre and the Coldwater Flat
The Centenary of the Russian Revolution
Boys in Zinc
Nobel Prize winner Svetlana Alexievich on the USSR in Afghanistan.
‘His wife comes in, baring, with a wink, her incisors, and offers him a Bloody Mary.’
The Unmailed Letter
‘I was already suspicious of you before you were even born. You were Mama’s then, eating her up from the inside like a little cancer. She became yellow. She lost chunkfuls of hair.’