Were I a rat, I could love cheese without understanding how it was made exactly
Love lessons from Rat, our soldier of hope
Tallulah, we don’t know where we’re going
Rosa revisits Bugsy Malone as a finalist; the film is poignant now more than ever.
Arthur reflects on three months in Mexico City
Three: dancing the blues
Three: dancing the blues
Grief for a sense of home
crack under the bathroom door, a basket of dim-sum and maybe a soup-bowl haircut
night-club love-letter to a stranger
Mistake mis-take we mis-took each-other for reflections of our most fantastical selves.
The Thing We Have Between Us
Charcoal, graphite, photoshop, and the quietly lonely inscriptions of Lydia Lott’s mind are welded into a series of poetic artworks. One for those feeling secluded in their own heads.
Hiding away from peeping Toms inside Lydia’s notebook
Luanna wonders: what is music for?
A music beyond listening; an idea of music as a temporary state of being in one's mind.
Two: Mario, Luigi, Dracula and a Witch walk into McDonalds
Across the room Dracula leaned elegantly against the wall, his long black cloak hanging smoothly over his shoulders. His hair was slicked back and shined artificially black under the light. His gaze was downcast, eyes glued to a phone screen.
Aliens, Spaceships and other things make more sense than traffic, my phone, the supermarket and God.
Like Arthur, I seem to be having some difficulty with my lifestyle, and I also find myself not understanding anything, at all, ever. Even the small things (coffee, mud, bathrobes) feel bizarre sometimes. I'm as paranoid as a robot, as anxious as a human.
One: Man in Olive-green Jumper Eats a Sandwich
He is never in a rush to finish his sandwich, chomping on it leisurely mouthful by mouthful as he sits slightly slumped on the wall.
Professional People-Watcher
Resident people-watcher Maia Hooper records fortnightly watchings and wonderings.
Scatting Practice
If I were to slip into a black hole that took me to another dimension,
The first thing I’d say to the life forms I came across would be,
Skarabababambam!
How do Mountains? Walking poems from Northern Camino de Santiago
How do mountains? Why does sea? Why and how do you and me?
Breath and existential crisis: Minimalism is phenomenological
Tom Dance writes in response to Experiencing the Aesthetic, a unit taken by second year Liberal Arts students at University of Bristol.
Sitting on Suitcases and No-Man’s-Time
There’s an old Russian ritual of sitting for a few moments before travel. “Sidet’ na chemodanakh” it’s called; “sitting on suitcases”. The sit is an essential part of preparing yourself for a journey…