“It’s a cruel sort of intimacy, but it binds.” The sorrowful tale of a washed-up whale, and the ways community deals with change.
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He’d said I was part-seagull, and he was too.
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Roger and Marie had argued many times over whether they had a right – and by right they were referring to a moral right – to apply for the housing ...
The house I’ve lived in with my family for the past two years is spacious and newly renovated. The comforts are numerous, the company good. But in the spring of ...
for Daniel Hawker, a smith.
The smithy at Lea was a squat building made of stones piled on top of one another without much apparent care. Inside I saw a jumble ...
Photo by Sarchi.
She was a rather peculiar woman, who lived alone. Life lingered in her slipper shuffles across carpeted rooms. Her home was plumped silent, the solitary loomed. Her purple ...
What we can sense when it is quiet.
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A tennis player reflects on her uprooted life
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The plane detaches itself from the tarmac and … offff it goes! I detach myself from history, from known names, the taste of “Prince Polo” and, among gentle turbulence, I ...