‘I feel stupid in the wrinkled Mickey Mouse T-shirt.’
My head was hanging over the hair-washing basin, like a weighty pistil. With her soft, sensually slow circular movements Zlatka made her way through the wet mass all the way to the roots. Pleasure spread down my neck; I closed my eyes. Naturally, the tips of her fingers were seductively certain of t…
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Ariel Saramandi on her experience teaching in a lycée in Mauritius.
Fiction by Sidik Fofana, set in the South.
Kevin Maxwell on the police in the UK.
Morgan Parker and Rachel Long in conversation.
Poetry by Danez Smith, author of Don't Call Us Dead.
‘She appeals to the fisherman, the rickshaw driver, the bricklayer. Her devotees are of all types’
‘It was the afternoons that did it, three o’clock like a kind of death knell, the house seeming too still, too many hours of sunlight left in the day. How had Thora even started going to the chat rooms?’
‘child who dreams of growing into / a swan only to wake in terror at a mouth / filled with feathers.’
‘half-sunk / into ground for all those years / of negative subsistence’
‘He was already suffering the attacks that would characterise the later stages of the illness, during which lights seemed to dance on the surface of everything. They were blue, lilac, pink and green, he said.’
‘I don’t know exactly what I wanted from you then, except that I wanted it badly.’
