Bellies lined with pyttipanna, we refill our water bottles and stride home from the city centre towards Block 5.
Category: Contemporary Culture
ONE POEM – Poppy Frean
listen
words pass overhead
spoken broken in dialogue slang where South
is said “SOUF”
ONE POEM – Ogedengbe Tolulope
We sing the songs filled with sadness,
Songs with lyrics written in silence
PHOTOGRAPHY: Tales of a City VII – Seigar
Nobody knows, but I sometimes fantasise about what my partner’s childhood and teen years were like… I feel a great tenderness when I explore this town
ONE POEM – Peter Hebden
Tuesday
morning with no people, no cars
only today there are no people,
no cars. Today it’s weird, isn’t it?
THREE POEMS – Hannah Bishop
braid me yes plait me
no plate me
don’t make me
ONE POEM – Kevin Jackson
Red shift Dark-moon cry of you half-him of you, starring backwards axe of you, mastered as youth Teeth of you biting down, tenderizing, sharpening if only for a night The many-fold you, thorns, garden, squall of you, intoxication Thief, the noble cat of you, insistent splinter The wild-world’s red eyes beating in you Me wrenched…
Interview: Matilda Battersby, Editor of Popshot
I find the process of actually writing fiction to be like some sort of mysterious alchemy. You have a plan and then what actually comes out is completely different.
ONE POEM – Salam Wosu
I ask my body ‘what is life?’ it says ‘dance’
because dance is a way the body finds liberation
through lyrics, solace in songs, an overeager mosaic
of marinated moments & coralled colours colliding.
Moving Towards The Yes – Tamara Lazaroff
I have never felt it so clearly: the field of independent, potential affirmatives, the ‘yes’, the ‘yeses’ to all of the pleasure and power, freedom, purpose and desire that is mine to choose and discover.
Books to read in isolation – Miriam Gauntlett
Wonderful insights into the books you should be reading while self-isolating, from passionate book instagrammer Miriam Gauntlett.
Sustenance – Katy Thornton
Deirdre Murphy died on the 11th June, exactly three years after she should have died of a stroke. She was a despicable old bat, a snobby try hard, an utter sour puss, to name a few of her nicknames.
Porridge 