Moda de las Cholitas
Recognisable by their long black braids, colourful skirts, and wide-brimmed hats, cholitas – as the indigenous women of Bolivia are called – seemed to be the wheels powering each rural village I visited in Cochabamba, one of the nine departments (states) of Bolivia. Whether teaching classes, sel
University: An Only Child’s Guide
In my experience, only children are raised in two ways. The first has always been treated as a child, the second as an adult. The stereotypical Little Prince/Princess model of Only Child is a product of the former upbringing. I was the latter: my mother explained to me, aged 10, that I was essential
Poetry Weekly – Goodbyes
(a) conversation I laughed and laughed through a mouthful of beads, teeth crunching plaster tongue folding plastic to powdery wisps of lettered strings. Inside his eyes stood a tiny fist wristless swinging and knocking in reach — “The night isn’t always shouting and crowded.” Our br
Poetry Weekly – Flux
Flux Kei Patrick ………………………What ……………………………………….am …………………………….I ………̷
In Praise of Letters
Letters have always seemed a strangely heightened form of communication to me – you can’t burn an email, and frankly, I’ve yet to see an email worth burning. Letter writers from Oscar Wilde to Peter Wildeblood have found themselves incriminated by their own words. Sylvia Plath and Virginia Woo
photo journal
27 July Packed quietly and snuck off this morning – didn’t want to wake people as they all seemed so deep in sleep. Last few days in Les Gets were mellow. We hiked and got caught in a hot storm. We counted the seconds between the flashes and the cracks of lightning as we waited for […]
Vida Adamczewski – Poetry Weekly
We leave bits of our bodies everywhere which means the hoover is always full of skin She spent the morning pulling his hair out of the plughole Felted into fibre glass, her hair Chokes up the hairbrush. When she is half awake, She dreams about it falling out in clumps. She’d look odd bald; an
Dirty Dishes
NIGELLA TALKS DIRTY—a YouTube video I found the other day, which manipulates scenes from Nigella Lawson’s various cooking shows to make it sound as if she’s having sex. “If you want to squeeze”—and here the video cuts—“my plumptious beauties”—and again— “then be my guest”.
Ode to Joy
When I first began to touch myself it wasn’t “masturbation”—it was nothing but an expressive action. Its implications and attached politics were unknown to me. I was unencumbered by any words or conversations that may have inflected my private action with shame or disgust. I was, at least fo