[Poetry] — James Strowman

“soft against the dark and I am gone/drifting to things far removed from prayer/into the silent cinema of my mind”

[Review] Slaughter by Rosanna Hildyard — Daunish Negargar

“Hildyard brings a nuanced perspective to both the realities of farming in the United Kingdom and female sexuality, as contradictions are not skimmed over, or resolved, but rather relished and dissected like a bloody carcass throughout this dark tale”

[Fiction] The Roundhouse — Elena Lo Presti

“From that moment onwards, I see lights appearing inside The Roundhouse’s rooms: it is almost like, after discovering its rotating secret, I have broken the enchantment that kept its guests invisible, safe from my gaze.”

Published in partnership with Everything Forever, organised by Contemporary Art Practice at the Royal College of Art.

[Fiction] Portals to Eternity — Rieko Whitfield

“You are blissfully shrouded in only the present – one day you may not remember where you came from at all.”

Published in partnership with Everything Forever, organised by Contemporary Art Practice at the Royal College of Art.

[Fiction] Apple Blossom Sky — Laura Moreton-Griffiths

“I have eight weeks before the changes are noticed. In eight weeks I can do a lot of damage. For a little while, the materials will not be missed and my nano sabotage will go undetected.”

Published in partnership with Everything Forever, organised by Contemporary Art Practice at the Royal College of Art.

[Fiction] Orts — Meghan Murphy

“Inside this house there is no letting go.”

Published in partnership with Everything Forever, organised by Contemporary Art Practice at the Royal College of Art.

[Poetry] — Peter Donnelly

“At these minor garden parties,/Wind lushes and lashes/Through tended-to bush/Gusts across tennis courts (the nets slap/And billow); Ford Fiestas at the perimeter/Unmoved by all of this.”

[Poetry] — Maia Joy

“The brightness melts my insides/into something that more resembles/a Salvador Dalí painting than/anything earthly”

[Poetry] — George Rawlins

“I stalk a weakening current, a mirror/to wandering, tracing faint verse/into sediment just/below whitewater.”