fragments: a series
11.5.22 18:08 [the fear/the hope] to be good to be bad to be forgettable to be unforgettable social experiment 20.5.22 13:38 [part-hearted] unhinge me, move me i am already undone put me back together, but leave me alone! pull me up, down, turn me inside out you lift me up, can spin me roun
Tres Poemas de la Generación del 27
Words by Iona Blair. Art by Betsy McGrath.
The Halcyon Days
Summer opens like flesh giving way to a blade. The sky is as pale and quiet as bone. The golden tap of the sun sprays against my face and soaks into my skin: these are halcyon days. Summer rain descends like a dream, deeper than sleep. I open my mouth and water rushes in. A […]
The Isis 2022 Wrapped
2022. 3 magazines, 15 events, 97 pieces. In order to pay tribute to the bold writing, vibrant artwork, and exciting events which The Isis has produced in 2022, we asked our Editors-in-Chief, Deputy Editors, and Creative Leaders to each pick their favourite pieces. Below are some of the highlights fr
Temporalities
i. The Louvre, Paris and we are gilded spires opaque pearlescent rounds smooth skimmed surfaces you could hold under your tongue set into a crown and call jewels. a feeling of falling mid-breath, a hazy periphery and a spotlight. we are tilting, scintillating in light slowed in mind’s
Sconfinata
When I was fourteen, I found a woman in my house. She was father’s secretary, with luminous black hair and a string of pearls around her neck. The tender remembrance of a distant beauty, coupled with an unwavering faith in the grandeur of life, she consumed the better part of my consciousness th
Oxford, the Foundation Year, and the Possibility of Access
In the popular imagination, Oxford University remains the preserve of the elite – the ultimate ivory tower. The university prides itself on providing excellence in education. Such a claim demands a hierarchy of (less excellent) institutions, and (less excellent) resources. In other words, elit
Growing Into Childishness
MY DEAR LUCY, I wrote this story for you, but when I began it I had not realised that girls grow quicker than books. As a result you are already too old for fairy tales, and by the time it is printed and bound you will be older still. But some day you will […]
Undertow
I, clinging, algae-strung, to the borders of you in this subterranean room, green wallpaper, mulching the curtain-washed light, dissolving clear morning in acid and spleen. your left hand gloomy in the dark, its moss-blotch stain of pencil l