‘Boarding the train in the African darkness just before dawn was like climbing into the body of a huge, dusty monster'.
Boarding the train in the African darkness just before dawn was like climbing into the body of a huge, dusty monster. I rejoiced in the strangeness of entering it, and I felt safe and happy inside, half-asleep on a wooden bench. But after sun-up the train did not seem so huge. And in harsh daylight,…
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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.
‘England does not have a climate; it has weather, seldom dramatic.’
Americans, speaking of foreign lands, often say, 'It's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.'
‘Whenever people ask me about travel I always suspect they are buttonholing me, eager to relate amazing adventures of their own’.
‘No one is alone in their bed anymore.’
An excerpt from Sleepless by Marie Darrieussecq, translated by Penny Hueston.
