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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...

& we say to her what have you done with our kin that you swallowed? & she says that was ages ago, you’ve drunk them by now — Danez Smith, ‘dream where every black person is standing by the ocean’   The atoms of those people who were thrown overboard are out there in the ocean even today — Christina Sharpe, In The Wake: On Blackness and Being   of / water / rains & / dead — M NourbeSe Philip, Zong! #5   The beaches of Benin are empty From Cotonou to Ouidah I have never seen beaches so empty before From the windows of our minivan, the coastline is a wide expanse of sand beginning just beyond the road, on and on, and then water Palm trees here and there, but emptiness, mostly Nobody, no livestock, just sand As for us, we are eight women and we have just arrived Three of us – myself included – flew in from London, with the five others coming in from the States All of us have flown in from winter It is January, and on our first full day together, our bare skin re-colouring in the light, we ask the driver to take us to a restaurant for lunch We are seeking the kind of seafood of which we are all so starved, and when our dishes arrive they don’t disappoint Each platter careens with fried plantain, grilled fish, yam, rice, and prawns so large they’re not prawns any more but gambas, instead Gambas or langoustines or crayfish or crawfish, depending on which of us is speaking, or who cares to know the difference Whatever any of it is called, we resolve that we would like to return to eat it again, here, at this terraced balcony from which we watch the sea The restaurant sits on a beach that is vacant as far as our sight can reach There is a mutedness to the expanse of the sand, and though it looks no different now than it would at any other time, the staff tell us that yesterday a boy drowned nearby   The beaches of Benin

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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feature

July 2012

Run, Comrades, #YOLO! — Cursory Notes on Radical Hashtag Forms

Huw Lemmey

feature

July 2012

I’m not up on the Internet, but I hear that is a democratic possibility. People can connect with each...

fiction

December 2011

Travel

Paul Kavanagh

fiction

December 2011

Taxi The taxi stopped and Henry climbed into the taxi. The taxi driver went around the block three times...

Art

November 2012

Pending performance: Cally Spooner’s live production

Isabella Maidment

Art

November 2012

It’s 1957 and the press release still isn’t written[1] An actress dressed in black overalls stands on a theatrically...

 

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