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
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