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This is not a story, this is a sequence The sequence describes human indignity, indifference, callousness… weary subjects, to be sure, and I feel weariness The sequence is about the distance between good and evil, which is a short distance, but steep Not in the way you might hope, either; to do evil is simpler than ever It is a downhill motion This concept has long been theorised, but this is not about theory   This is about feeling   When E was asked to describe her first five years ‘as a refugee’ in Sweden, she responded with weariness She told her interrogator that her experience taught her, like nothing before had taught her, the laws of gravity It was the first time she understood that the world was not flat She saw the earth clearly as a sphere, where the abyss above was the same as the abyss below Some bend some break at the sight of this, but none forget it No surprise that, in the stillness, her body ached as her mind did The mind and the body exist, not in opposition, but in parallel   I am not E, the husband I loved did not become a soldier, a soldier who by definition could only be my enemy That is not my story But I know the distance between a man and a soldier, and it is a short one I have seen the distance on trains, I have seen the distance in night clubs I woke up to the distance this morning I woke up to the sound of screaming I do not mean this is a metaphor: this morning I woke up to the noise of a woman screaming   Maybe there is no world without cruelty, maybe there is no world without power Our bias towards a cure leaves out this kind of data   Fireflies existed for the generation before mine but they are long gone now Like language All corrupted   At this point the narrator begins to speak in tongues The subtitles read: Mania & Mimesis   1 I watched a young man be hypnotised, as a performance The instructions were in
Topsy-Turvy World

Prize Entry

May 2020

Sanja Grozdanić

This all happened in Barcelona, in the spring of 2017 I haven’t spoken to him ever since, we never got back in touch for some reason, and plus after I went back to Buenos Aires I met Agustín and soon we got together and I believe we were happy for a while, so I forgot about him and my brother and Barcelona and all of that And yet sometimes I still think about him, I don’t know why I remember I used to look at him, my head on the pillow, trying to make out his body moving through the semidarkness of the room, picking some clothes and then gradually coming into view at the foot of the bed, where he would sit and get dressed I remember I used to watch him walking out onto the balcony for the first cigarette of the day (stiza or stizza, that’s how he used to call it in Italian) and then stepping back in and leaving the windows and the white shutters ajar so that the sounds and the smells and the light of the city might pour into the room once the sun rose, once the city rose, because before that, as I quietly, almost secretly watched him getting ready for work, I would often find myself under the impression that he was the only human being alive in the whole of Barcelona, that I was spying on him, that I shouldn’t have been there, in his flat, in the flat of a man I barely knew, and in fact I never got used to that impression, to Cesare’s silent figure groping his way through the obscurity in the early minutes of the day, go on yes please don’t stop and this is the more surprising the more I consider that on the other hand I did get used, during those twelve days we spent together in Barcelona, in the spring of 2017, to the basic rhythms and patterns of his routine I

Prize Entry

May 2020

Mária

Lorenzo Mandelli

Prize Entry

May 2020

This all happened in Barcelona, in the spring of 2017. I haven’t spoken to him ever since, we never...

Fiction

Issue No. 18

At the Clinic

Sally Rooney

Fiction

Issue No. 18

This story featured in The White Review 18, published in 2016.       On the way to the...

Fiction

Issue No. 11

A Vicious Cycle

Evan Lavender-Smith

Fiction

Issue No. 11

I have seen the bumper stickers on the bumper of your Toyota Prius therefore I have induced that you believe...

Fiction

January 2020

frequently asked questions about your craniotomy

Mary South

Fiction

January 2020

If you’re reading this page, chances are you’ve recently heard that you need to have a craniotomy. Try not to...

Fiction

December 2019

The Bad Brother

Rita Bullwinkel

Fiction

December 2019

We were a committee of three brothers, but one of us was bad. Bad in the sense that one...

Symmetry of Provocation

Fiction

October 2019

Vi Khi Nao

Fiction

October 2019

She saw her father at Smith’s. By accident. She was paying the heat bill. After paying the heat bill, she deposited some of the...

Fiction

July 2019

Exquisite Mariposa

FIONA ALISON DUNCAN

Fiction

July 2019

I broke three contracts in 2016. The first was verbal, a monogamy clause. But he was fucking around too,...

Fiction

Issue No. 25

Thursday

Patrícia Portela

TR. Rahul Bery

Fiction

Issue No. 25

‘Not my name. I live on the streets of an era in which saying one’s name is a cause...

The Collection

Fiction

May 2019

Nina Leger

TR. Laura Francis

Fiction

May 2019

She slides it into her mouth.   She lets it grow heavy, take on warmth, breadth and shape, push against her palate, weigh upon...

 

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