’I was sweating, I was faint. The yellow on the walls was brilliant and burning.‘
My life began at Cambridge, the moment I walked through the Emmanuel College gate and stood on the smooth, uneven stones within the cloisters. I loved the bad sherry and the rotten dinners, which I ate, gowned, in Emmanuel Hall. I was happy, spending too much on a bike that was stolen at once, so th…
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.
‘Los Angeles was a lot like South Africa. The apartheid wasn't enshrined by law, but by economics and geography, and it was just as powerful.’
‘This is not the story of my life, at least not the story of all of it, but it is the story of my father.’
‘I was a hysterical adolescent. But I was a hysterical adolescent with a credit card and there was a seat available.’
‘Was the sunburn part of the shtick? she wondered while the video continued to play.’
A story by Megan Kamalei Kakimoto.
‘What does it say about capitalism that we have money and want to spend it but we can’t find anything worth buying?’
Eula Biss on her book Having and Being Had.
