Our living archive: essays, poetry, fiction, and film gathered across issues. A continuous record of the work we publish, updated as new pieces find their home here.
Featured
FICTION & PROSE
Łukasz Łotoszyński
A literary short story about an aged woman crocheting lace in her final years, as memories of her life surface stitch by stitch - a childhood in a Polish village, an early trauma in a wheat field, an arranged marriage, motherhood, and finally refuge in the company of other women.
FICTION
Layla Nassar
To walk through an Arab city is to be educated by the senses before the mind has a chance to form an opinion. Colour comes first — then smell, then sound, layered and without hierarchy.
OTHER
Ettore Castagnola
Before leaving a flat he had rented for nine years, a writer left three letters in a kitchen drawer for whoever came next. These are the drafts.
ARTWORK
Dalia Serrat
A printmaker spends a summer mixing a single red for five prints of rusted things. On colour as a decision you make once and then live with.
FILM
Hana Morrow
For three years a filmmaker tried to fund a short about her grandmother's last summer in a rented cottage. It never happened. This is the shot list, and what she learned from writing it.
PODCAST
Kasper Nyholm
Fourteen kilometres on foot beside the road that circles the city, recorded in one evening. Notes for a listening piece about the places built for passing through.
POETRY
Mira Halloran
String used from both ends, two birthday candles and a key to a door we no longer have. A list poem for the drawer every kitchen has.
OPINION & ARGUMENT
Aurelia Stanek
Every word of a translated book was chosen by the translator, and yet their name is usually in small print on the title page. A translator of ten years argues it belongs on the front.
FILM & BOOK REVIEW
Mira Halloran
Clémence Aury's The Pantry Hours takes place over one year in one kitchen and never goes outside. In Tobias Wren's translation it is the quietest and most absorbing novel I have read this summer.
FICTION & PROSE
Joaquim Brandeiro
The last boat leaves at twenty past one. A night clerk, a woman with a cello case and a crossing that takes eleven minutes and somehow lasts all night.
ESSAY & CRITICISM
Ettore Castagnola
For twenty years a bookseller copied out the notes strangers left in the margins of second-hand books. On what those notes reveal, and why he never tried to find their authors.
ARTWORK
Dalia Serrat
Six linocuts cut over one winter in a shared allotment garden, and a note on why the cabbages got the most ink.