A manicurist fosters a dark secret.
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On the impossibility of imagining true sightlessness.
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Tracing family across borders and generations.
About ...
How-and why-not to be desperate to lose your virginity.
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On seeing clothes not unworn and mountains not unmoving.
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Can a fictional creation really step off the page?
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It’s not often I get to the end of a novel and realise I need to reread it straight away. Not just because I liked it—I did—but because I realised ...
The word “maze” usually conjures up images of verdant hedges perfectly pruned into sinuous shapes, but this is not true of the maze with the punning title, ...
Do check out tomorrow night’s “Endless Poem”, an intercultural event as part of Rio Occupation London, presented in partnership with Litro.
Directed by Rob Drummer and written by Brazilian poet ...
Rio de Janeiro is not quite a “world city”. It is too laid back, too full of switchbacks, so many roads ending at the beach. Yet in the coming years, ...
“Sky-blue,” the boy hears, as he sweeps the yard and feels the broom come to a sudden halt. He looks to one side with a start, then behind him, then ...
Since November the temperature had been rising steadily. It had reached more than thirty degrees and nothing, not even the downpours that fell every so often, could reduce the sweltering ...
He started by telling me that it was all interconnected: the colt, the earth, the skirt, the strawberry and so on; because it had all been very well thought out, ...
It’s just after midday. I sit on the train watching people come and go, their sullen faces, absent expressions. I see them carrying packages, handbags, holdalls. They unfold newspapers, read ...
The witness Olaf Stapfnunsk, born in Stockholm, naturalised Brazilian, 48 years of age, owner of a private gym, resident of … street in the city of …, after swearing by ...
The water has been lapping his feet for a while, since he arrived at the beach and installed himself there, on the shore. Every day he performs the same ritual: ...
Waiting, standing, on the rock,
between the sea’s green sphere
and the star that nears
every night, you speak
...
at eleven years old
behind my grandmother’s house
in fishing village z-3
i smoked a gol cigarette bought
singly in a boteco
...
The Present
for Claudia Roquette-Pinto
At the red light a boy asks me for a handout. He sees my weary face, my muscles signalling urgent needs, my life catching its ...
Tiles
at the selarón
staircase songs
shattered feelings
coloured under
the rain walking
for months
two hundred and
fifteen degrees ...