Hanne Larsson

    When this is all over… We will hug. There’re two types. A proper one starts off gentle, a soft caress as two people’s arms find a way through each other’s limbs, as chests start to touch, as each pulls the other tighter to them, as you inhale...

John Rogers

      Please accept our apologies as we stand with a basket of light, brighter than its weight in gold. Cherry-picked too. The old lady pledged that it could withstand quite the storm. Perhaps she was right, but the painted sign says in bold: Sadly, The...

Mariam Saidan

      Lies From my window I watch leaves flutter. Seagulls stamping their feet, I play with my loneliness. I write stories, I tell lies like: “My heart leaps at the thought of love.”     Mariam Saidan is Iranian/British and has worked in the...

Lucy Dixcart

      Mushroom Picker Mushrooms grow well in chicken manure, but there’s a rumour the farm is experimenting with faeces from the local zoo. We traipse into the shed: a corrugated half-cylinder. I wrangle a ladder that’s taller than me, stuff blue...

Anne Symons

      Off colour 1946: a green rabbit and a grey giraffe, crafted by her uncle in hospital in Palestine, where making leather toys was therapy. Good solid toys, and wipeable, sturdy in a toddler’s hand. She wobbled round clutching the giraffe by its...