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
To Chelsea
Clinton. If the name stings, will you wear the veil while tending the bees? When the dynasty burns, will you carry the water jug or the torch? Did you envy the man with the face tattoo? Avoid strangers who claimed they knew you? I do. It’s only a story, says Chelsea. Today it’s me, tomorrow [&he
Glassy-Eyed: A polemic against glass buildings
The vogue for christening new additions to the London skyline with cheerful nicknames began with the “Gherkin” in 1999. Ever since, architectural practices seem to have taken these nicknames as an affirmation of their work, or rather a tool to secure affirmation. A panoply of skyscrapers with eq
Out of Thin Air: MH370, Flight 8501 and vanishing aircraft
There’s something undeniably alarming about flying. It’s with a certain relief that even the most seasoned air traveller feels the thud of the plane’s wheels touching the ground. Despite the oft-used statistic that flying is safer than car travel, it is, for want of a better phrase, a bit scar
The ISIS Short Essay Competition: ‘Is it possible to dress rationally?’
Self-Fashioning If I were to dress rationally, I might wear beige. But beige is an ugly word and an uglier colour. If I were to dress rationally, I might do so in the wartime way. But I am as happy to ration my fashion as I am to don beige – that is, not at […]
The Bell Tower
At dusk comes a tipping of the scales— the steady thrum of insects fading into heart-beat silence. Growing shadows feel no absence, but a slipping, and a spreading. A subtler world awakes. I climbed the bell tower where the air is close, anticipatory, penetrating the depths of dusk, which is tight
Thoughts on the Death of my Father
(Nappies aren’t supposed to be for grown-ups. Grief, not crusts, whips hair into curls. He does his dying, is gone; still the nurse’s day […]