Through countless retrievals, our memories of precious moments lose their ‘truth.’
Category: current affairs
ONE POEM – Sarah Degner Riveros
Mama hugs
her son. Can we get
horchata? No. Not today.
It’s Tuesday. Treinta tacos?
De asada? Para llevar.
The wait’s worth it.
Smälting Pot – Elinor Potts
Bellies lined with pyttipanna, we refill our water bottles and stride home from the city centre towards Block 5.
ONE POEM – Poppy Frean
listen
words pass overhead
spoken broken in dialogue slang where South
is said “SOUF”
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 – M.E. Muir
Where cars lie dying
in Ligurian scrapyards
the Via Aurelia
travels slowly past
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 – Stephen House
we keep walking
maybe fearful of touching
in front of others
unable to be completely who we are
two men with love
happily growing older
together
Nick St.Oegger – Kuçedra: Portraits of Life on Europe’s Last Wild River
“For most of us living in Europe or the US, we’re so used to seeing altered rivers that we don’t know what a wild river looks like.”
Feeling Myself – Dolly Church
When my body was made up of straight lines it felt boyish and uninteresting, and when those lines finally bent, they felt uncontrollable.
Killer (non)fictions: Is true crime miscommunicating truths in favour of entertaining audiences? – Charley Barnes
. True crime, by its very titling, leads audiences to believe that they are consuming something inherently true in nature. True crime is categorised as a non-fiction form of media, regardless of the means of communication – whether it be written or visual. This alleged truthfulness raises intellectual and moral ambiguities. The rate at which…
TWO POEMS – James Carroll
James Carroll is a twenty-three year old English Literature Masters student at the University of Leeds. His work has featured in multiple Leeds art publications, including The Scribe, Heir and his mother’s fridge. He is currently writing a novel about the relationship between sport and men’s mental health, and no poem could ever mean more…
Porridge 