The Fault, Dear Brutus, is Not in Our Students
First, a confession: I’m a second year English student, but aged sixteen, I couldn’t stand Shakespeare. I know, I know. It’s the kind of blasphemy which ignites witch-hunts and kicks academia into uproar. I’ll hasten to point out that I do like Shakespeare now. And my transformation in opini
A reflection in glass
Fiction: “I mean, anyone who lives in monochrome might be so preoccupied, their mind curling with sepia-tone daydreams and heavy-lidded prayers.”
