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Chris Newlove Horton
Chris Newlove Horton is a writer living in London.

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DATE NIGHT

Prize Entry

April 2016

Chris Newlove Horton

Prize Entry

April 2016

He said, ‘Tell me about yourself.’ He said, ‘Tell me about you.’ He said, ‘Tell me everything. I’m interested.’ He said, ‘I want to...

fiction

April 2015

Heavy

Chris Newlove Horton

fiction

April 2015

It is a two lane road somewhere in North America. The car is pulled onto the shoulder with the...

Many years ago a large Russian man with the longest tendrils of the softest white hair came to live in the fastest growing town in Europe which at the time happened to be in the southwest of England Very little is known about why he came there or what he did with himself but one thing relating to his daily round that can be set down with utmost confidence is that whenever the Russian man needed groceries he’d fold himself into his small maroon car and drive to a retail park in the suburbs to get them And probably the reason he went to that retail park and not another was because there was a very pleasant supermarket in that retail park which aside from Saturday mornings naturally never got too busy and as such there was always an available parking space up near the exit and entrance doors and this in all likelihood suited the Russian man very well because he would likely have had tremendous difficulty finding his own car if it was only shoved haphazardly in there somewhere among all the other cars parked one after the other with cracking midday sunlight spreading out all over them diluting their already indistinguishable roofs in the practically endless carpark The Russian man’s car was fairly distinguishable for the reason that it was ancient which meant it was a distinctly vintage colour and had the finish furthermore of an old immoveable garden gate which meant it could hold its own against the suburban sun’s brash emanation But in all likelihood the Russian man did not in any case know what his own car looked like so the only way he could find it was to be certain of where he left it and this perhaps explains why the Russian man liked to park his small maroon car up near the entrance and exit doors of the supermarket which despite its commodious proportions had the familiar feel and botherless charm of a corner-shop Right there on the perimeter of this booming yet visionless town in the southwest of England   Once inside the supermarket the Russian man would seize a basket from the pile that could always be counted on to

Contributor

August 2014

Chris Newlove Horton

Contributor

August 2014

Chris Newlove Horton is a writer living in London.

James Richards: Not Blacking Out...

Art

December 2011

Chris Newlove Horton

Art

December 2011

Artist James Richards appropriates audio-visual material gathered from a range of sources, which he then edits into elaborate, fragmented collages.   But whereas his...

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Interview

Issue No. 1

Interview with Tim Walker

Karl Smith

Interview

Issue No. 1

‘I’m not so motivated by fashion and brands,’ explains Tim Walker – one of the world’s leading fashion photographers....

feature

Issue No. 13

Writers from the Old Days

Enrique Vila-Matas

TR. J. S. Tennant

feature

Issue No. 13

Augusto Monterroso wrote that sooner or later the Latin American writer faces three possible fates: exile, imprisonment or burial....

fiction

June 2013

The Cherry Tree

Sheila Heti

fiction

June 2013

That winter, all the plums froze. All the peaches froze and all the cherries froze, and everything froze so...

 

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