‘If you were twenty in the summer of 1967, San Francisco was the only place to be.’
If you were twenty in the summer of 1967, San Francisco was the only place to be. The number one song told us all to wear flowers in our hair, as we were going to meet some gentle people there.
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‘The slutty ingenuity of vegetables when it comes to desire and reproductive methods is a marvel.’
Rebecca May Johnson negotiates allotment culture.
‘Globalisation is incomplete: money can go anywhere, but laws cannot.’
Oliver Bullough on one of Britain’s most contested outposts: the British Virgin Islands.
‘You discover during your very first lessons that the problem of singing better involves overcoming many other problems you had not ever imagined.’
A new story from Lydia Davis.
‘She began to count; it was easier this way, counting, because she would not have to remember how she felt.’
An excerpt from Ukamaka Olisakwe’s Ogadinma.
‘Like any desert, I learn myself by what’s desired of me—
and I am demoned by those desires.’
From Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Diaz.
‘This makes more sense to me as a bodily practice: that desire to push one’s physical limits well beyond their natural bounds.’
‘I was trying simultaneously to numb the grief I felt and to burrow into that grief, so I could stand in it.’
‘After a while people’s faces began to fade, and they came to seem like hoards of noppera-bō, faceless spirits gliding by.’
Two stories by Tomoka Shibasaki.
Margaret Busby was Britain’s first Black woman publisher. At the age of twenty, she was also one of its youngest.
‘My work life – like, maybe, yours – is built around another, non-paying vocation.’
‘It’s at night that you really notice the dust, because artificial light suddenly makes the fines visible.’
