Tomorrow: A Blueprint
Kerbside, night, and someone who’s not quite you, don’t worry, I’m not quite me either. and rain, and left a taxi pulls away, with that where’s-home ache in its eyes. she’ll light a cigarette, her hands cradling warmth: need met in clinging. oh and neon draped like a frame, meaning somethi
Ten Things You Most Likely Didn’t See
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The Destruction of Art and Architecture in Delhi
Wandering through the streets of Old Delhi at dawn is unlike anything else. While the crowds of market sellers, imams, and cycle rickshaws lie asleep, the last remaining traces of the Mughal capital loom over you through the morning mist. One discovers a whole new set of marvels on every trip: the m
Too obscene for the screen
Imagine being a small restaurant owner in Newport Beach, California in 1971. It’s an average start to the day like any other, you’re going around making sure that everything is ready for opening time and then, the postman drops off some mail. This is nothing exciting, you might get a couple of b
Does your ‘masculinity’ need to seduce me?
‘That one.’ ‘Straight.’ ‘Really?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Damn.’ I’m sitting in the smoking area of a club. I’m surrounded by a mash-up of oversized shirts, denim, fine-artists, dramatists, bob-cuts, and dope. ‘But he’s coming over.’ Amid empty benches, he sits beside me. I notice o
There has to be more to being than buying
My coworker at the Public Theatre in New York’s Astor Place assured me that this afternoon’s show would be one of the weirder ones. “You don’t know Reverend Billy? Oh this guy’s a real treat. Kind of a crazy East Village legend, but I’m still not really sure if he’s a real reverend or
India, unafraid.
tw: mentions of sexual assault, violence, rape 16th December 2012 – a day that started like any other, but which now marks a turning point in the struggle for women’s rights in India. In South Delhi, 23 year-old physiotherapy intern Jyoti Singh climbed aboard a bus with her male friend. They
Battered Bodhrán
I worked at the Battered Bodhrán on Hackney Road. Six days a week, I’d come in at 7pm and leave shortly after we closed at one in the morning. They paid me seven pounds per hour, which added up to roughly a thousand a month, or nine-fifty after National Insurance. Of that, seven-fifty went on [&h
