The Snail, Or Nancy
When I write her into a story, the first thing I do is make her older. She’s in her thirties, age starting to show on her face, but still dressing young. In real life, I have left California, and soon she will too. We know things will never be like this again, but one day, […]
How Things Are Here
Boon Hian shoots a hundred free throws before he allows himself to leave. It’s dark now, and everyone else is gone. Termites flit around above him, drawn by the smell of rain out and towards the floodlights. They come to mate and leave, but instead they fly in circles – banging against the plast
Keeping Tabs
Imagine you’ve committed a crime. You’re going to court. Maybe you’re being accused of murder, or getting involved in a few burglaries. You’re guilty, but you’re desperate to walk free. You’re organising your case with your lawyer, and at a certain point in proceedings you have to pr
Kaddish
The word Obu is warm and round. This is how it sounds. It is warm to go with my mother’s hands and the lines on her face. I just felt so much love! My mother says. She spreads both hands and waves them around. It was a giant love. She also uses both […]
Lethe
On the second day you will not care for the news. Like a child you will play: tearing away the cross word puzzle and forgetting the old country with your gaze pointed at the painted sunlight of the dayroom. You will remember the sixth day most of all because you will have an answer; [&hel
On the front lines of the migration crisis in Palermo
In the Kalsa neighbourhood of Palermo, between the city’s historic centre and its seafront and ports, you’ll find Piazza Rivoluzione. A square that is more of a triangle, the piazza is a meeting point for five winding streets. At its heart currently stands a mass of scaffolding and tarpaulin, a
Magpie
In the hallway, I can feel the walls breathing. Furniture is sparse, and the woodwork is mahogany. There is a framed map of Canada to my left. Through the window above the staircase, a shard of sun pierces the room and lands squarely on a vase of oriental lilies, bathing them in a quiet yellow [&hel
‘Independence’ Day
“What, to the American slave, is your Fourth of July? I answer: a day that reveals to him, more than all other days of the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is a constant victim. To him, your celebration is a sham; your boasted liberty, an unholy license; your national greatness, s
Tory Crimes Against Cinematography
As this glorified JCR election of a Tory leadership contest heaves its way into a second month, the nation will be treated to the unedifying public spectacle of two Oxford alumni flirting with the Conservative Party membership. It’s all a bit Love Island, for retired bigots. However, if you swallo