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‘There’s this paradoxical nostalgia where even though yi suffered, yi miss it.’
Memoir by Graeme Armstrong.
‘She boils her sentences down to high-sucrose sweeties and calibrates her tone for maximum engagement.’
Fiction by Natasha Brown.
‘The monstrous years of my late teens lay lined up alongside the rest of my life like bullets in a gun.’
A story by Sophie Mackintosh.
‘Without waiting for me she removes her white shirt. Each button a piece of my own spine, undone.’
Fiction by K Patrick.
‘I followed him onto the dancefloor and he put his hands on my hips as if he’d known me for at least an hour.’
Fiction by Saba Sams.
Kalpana Narayanan was born in New Delhi and raised in Atlanta. In 2011, she received Boston Review’s Aura Estrada Short Story Prize. She lives in Brooklyn.
More about the author →‘My father has his own language for everything. When I finished my MFA, I was a NINJA: No Income, No Job, No Assets.’
‘At the entrance to the gynaecology clinic, I ring the bell.’
Fiction by Agnes Chew.
‘If Wales win tonight, everything will turn out okay.’
Thomas Morris on football, family and financial precarity.
‘I don’t remember his face, nor him as a whole.’
Derek Owusu on fathers and family.
‘Fiction, even if it’s completely made up, does say something about how you experience reality.’
Mary Gaitskill talks about her book The Devil’s Treasure.
‘In the winter of 1912 a small man in a Persian lamb-skin hat was also skating there.’
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