‘…a fully-fledged, award-winning, gold-plated monster…it knows only one language—bombs and death’ —Harold Pinter ‘…the only...
‘…a fully-fledged, award-winning, gold-plated monster…it knows only one language—bombs and death’ —Harold Pinter
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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.
‘It was a peculiar, alopecic landscape of hummocks and gullies, with patches of grass growing on what looked like white earth, and rarely a soul to be seen.’
‘Could grief for one woman have caused all this? We were told so.’
On the death of Diana.
‘Travel writing of most kinds, not just the humorous, has the history of colonialism perched on its shoulder.’
‘There was no sizing up, no graceful footwork, none of the rhetoric of the game: this was unmitigated invective.’
