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‘I alone know a running stream
that is recovery partly and dim sweat
of a day-fever’
A poem by Rowan Evans.
‘Humour is a thread we hang onto. It punctures through the fog of guilt.’
Momtaza Mehri in conversation with Warsan Shire.
‘Something shifted in me that night. A small voice in my head said, maybe you can make a way for yourself as a poet here, too.’
Mary Jean Chan in conversation with Andrew McMillan.
‘There was to be an exhibition. There were lots of pictures like his, apparently – of waiters, pastry cooks, valets, bellboys.’
An essay by Jason Allen-Paisant from Granta 159: What Do You See?
‘I have started to see that nothing is itself’
A poem by Jason Allen-Paisant from Granta 154: I’ve Been Away for a While.
Lauren Hough was raised in the Family and has lived in seven different countries. She’s been an air force airman, a green-aproned barista, a bartender and a stand-up comic. She lives in Austin, Texas.
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‘For a long time, it was shameful to admit you felt anything except bliss.’
Amy Acre and Liz Berry on motherhood.
‘On Good Friday, the priest in the livestream video stood inside the darkened sanctuary.’
Fiction by Nicolette Polek.
‘April 2022 marked my first visit to my ancestral homeland in seven years.’
Memoir by Isma’il Kushkush.
‘I won her with my grief first / a mess of steaming entrails, enticing / with its gloss.’
Two poems by Madeleine Stack.
‘The opening day of the tour covered the Iveragh peninsula.’
A story by Noel O’Regan, author of Though the Bodies Fall.
‘As I began to flip through a literary magazine, I was stopped by a photograph of myself as a young girl, standing beside my college professor.’
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