Everything you wanted
to learn at university
but didn't.

Once I drove a car with no brakes. It was a very scary experience for five years. It didn’t end badly but the screeches still keep me up at night, hands trembling on the steering wheel. I still feel the sting even in my sleep, that one tenacious dream of impact, a sound, blinding, and then the road rash, broken glass embedded in the weeds, so unruly and unwilling to follow rules, at the shoulder’s end, the hem, the vestibule, an antechamber to waking. Source: The Boy with One

A couple sits in the waiting room of the civil registry. Estranged, they barely speak. In fact, neither of them would even be there if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. They have come to put the last nail in the coffin. They have come to sign the divorce papers. In the corner of the room, there is a television mounted to the wall. The news is on. The reporter is covering the story of the fall from grace of a political activist. Handcuffed, head low, she walks, accompanied by a

My boss has a lot of houseplants in her office. Filing cabinets, bookshelves, windowsills, a little wooden stool in the corner, her desktop. Every available surface has a pot, a plethora of leaves, needles, thorns, buds, and flowers, lush or wilted. But not just her office. The whole building, really, is overgrown with them. You can find them at the end of corridors, on the landings of the staircases, atop appliances, crowding countertops, up high, down low, deep in the corne

The bulldozers came, square-jawed, thick knuckled, punching each other in the shoulders, biting off huge chunks, spitting out pieces of broken brick. Stuffed in their pockets were The New Laws, hastily passed, freshly stamped, ink not yet dry, signed by all the right people, the most cynical. In a matter of hours, they reduced the old schoolhouse library, perimeter sealed, children sent home, to a cloud of chalk dust above a heap of rubble, desktops jutting out here and there