We are leaving Paris on Friday, and we gave everything away : an essay about moving, the emotional attachments we have with objects, and making a home.Read More
There are about 15 young men in white, swarming over the sand, luring the bull this way and that. Psssst pssst they hiss and the bull swings his huge muscular body around, legs already splayed and hooves gouging the sand as he lurches forward.Read More
Speaking French is not a simple matter of flicking a switch and carrying on with life. It is inextricably related to feelings of legitimacy, falsehood, belonging and alienation. It is associated with anger and frustration, inadequacy, stupidity, and triumph. It is related to who and what I am, my place in the world around me and a constant negotiation and re-negotiation of meaning, intention and power.Read More
I cut it all off.
There was no ceremony.
With my housemate in the other room I slipped away and unpacked the men’s clipper kit I’d purchased the day before. Inches of wavy hair fell into the sink as I ran the nibbly grille over my scalp. Rawl! Rawl! It growled deeply as it encountered thick patches. Rewl! Rewl! It cried at the short ones. I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes, enormous now, looked back from between my black eyelashes. My thick eyebrows seemed thicker and I decided to start penciling them again. I ran my hands over my dome, still scattered with the debris of the massacre, and reveled in the tingly massage. I felt Egyptian, ancient, feline.Read More