You were born before Elvis had his first hit. And died before Freddie had his last. In the interim, you have shot thousands. You have photos of the government Minister who looked on while the savages of ’83 torched Tamil homes and slaughtered the occupants. You have portraits of disappeared journalists and vanished activists, bound […]

Tholukuthi it took the first decade of the donkey’s married life for her, by patiently piecing together fragments of the Father of the Nation’s nightmares and sleep talk, sometimes including whole conversations, lectures, debates, arguments, pleas, confessions, musings, by paying special attention to the intimate talk of the Seat of Power and Inner Circle, to […]

‘Fair do’s. Treacle Walker?’ ‘Joseph Coppock.’ ‘What is it you want for you? What is it you want most? For you. Not some wazzock else.’ ‘Never has a soul asked that of me.’ ‘What’s the answer?’ Treacle Walker leaned his head against the timber behind him and looked up into the stack. ‘To hear no […]

Strut, fly, gallop. There are so many ways to walk a street, but none of them will make you bulletproof. I got back from Mama’s and found myself stuck between street and gutter, Trevor knocking on the door early Sunday morning saying Vern been by again telling them they out if they don’t pay in […]

“Everybody talks about genocides around the world, but when the killing is slow and spread over a hundred years, no one notices. Where there are no mass graves, no one notices. American outrage is always for show. It has a shelf life. If that Griffin book had been Lynched Like Me, America might have looked […]

When Lia came to, Anne was perching next to a bed that was not her bed, in a room that was not her room. Her mother’s large planet-black eyes tapped shut every few seconds. She twitched curiously the way birds do when studying their very first hatching, their first glistening object of great and undivided […]

How light and tall he almost felt walking along with this girl at his side and some fresh, new, unrecognisable joy in his heart. Was it possible that the best bit of him was shining forth, and surfacing? Some part of him, whatever it could be called – was there any name for it? – […]

self-portrait: at sea I’d like you to sing, he said.  We don’t sing, Mr Lloyd.  But I need something to focus on. Counting or singing.  Not in this boat.  I read in a book that you people always sing while rowing.  Not a very good book then, is it, Mr Lloyd?  I came here because […]

Riding over the bridge – in the back of my own taxi that evening – I suddenly remembered times early in our marriage in our Village apartment when I had felt terrible. It was about my parents, and the feeling that I had left them behind – as I had – and I would sometimes […]