The ISIS Short Essay Competition: “O tell me the truth about love” (W.H. Auden).
Love cannot be just another Holocaust story! Or so my readers will surely exclaim in disbelief when I reveal that I wear love on my index finger. The ring is a symbol, I suppose, a small token of remembrance; it is a silver band which encloses a Star of David, purchased in the Jewish quarter [&helli
Descartes
Descartes thought the sky was made of spirals, spangled whirlwind scrawls, a tide of starlight, oily brushstrokes crowding in the midnight, currents sweeping past the moon. His rival, a Mr Newton, won; the Lumières jeered, and though the sciences were an art those days, the pictures Descartes saw w
Out of the Knesset and into the Wild West: Making light in Israeli Cinema
A man stands in a vast, dusty desert set against a sparsely clouded blue sky. He raises his eyes from beneath his hat. “Howdy,” he calls. “Howdy,” responds another man approaching. The director is unafraid of tense eye-level close-ups as the two stand opposite one another in strong stance.
Beyond College Families: Student parents at Oxford and Cambridge
Oh… actual parenthood. Not college parents.” There is some confusion when I first speak to Geraint Kiff, a third-year undergraduate at St Peter’s College, Oxford. Geraint studies languages, occasionally dresses as his college mascot (a squirrel), and is the father of an 18-month-old girl. He l
Sally Snake Eyes
And after it happened, I went to Sally Snake Eyes, & she sat me down, and said, Babe, it’s okay, it’s a natural thing, & she held me in her bed feeding me spoonfuls of milk. She kissed each barren follicle on my head, and I felt the hair begin to grow back. When she […]
The ISIS Short Essay Competition: “O tell me the truth about love” (W.H. Auden).
At the end of the BBC miniseries Pride and Prejudice, Lizzie and Darcy finally kiss. They’re in a carriage so the approach is somewhat unstable, but the music swells and their lips finally meet and the series ends on a still of their faces that fit together like puzzle pieces. The perfect end to a
Paper Cuts
I spent my time at school learning the art of getting by, and how to fold myself into smaller pieces. I was crafty with my hands: I folded tiny origami statues, and I folded myself into a sharp-edged sculpture, smaller and smaller until even the skin on my sides inched between my ribs to [&he
The Freedom Bird: Storytelling at Campsfield detention centre
A hunter was walking in the woods when he saw a bird with feathers of gleaming gold. It began to sing, but instead of a beautiful tune it squawked: “nah nah na nah-naahh”. The huntsman was irritated that such a beautiful bird had such an ugly song, and he threatened to shoot if it were […
The Garden
Dug deep into my thoughts, I find a hard-wrought poem Caught between a rose-bush and a fence. I scramble at the surface, scratching Past the clumps of earth, catching Nailfuls of half-remembered things, and Striking one: a glintless grain, like Copper. I cannot mould it. Never did I wo