Tag Archives: Hannah Stone

Eurycleia entertains a stranger in Armley

There’s always stew on the menu, cobbled together from donated veg, and – today – plenty of bread. Bank holidays fuck with your benefits, so the visitor’s hungry, will consume whatever’s put in front of him. Voracious for a listener … Continue reading

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Valued judgement

He insisted on owning the best of everything. Pure woollen carpets. First growth claret. Hardback copies of books. All twenty-nine volumes of The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians still squat on a shelf in his office. He would … Continue reading

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Cold Pastoral

For months after Keats died the friend who’d nursed him visited the Cimetero Acattolico. Grass grew through the bones of his grief. Once, he disturbed a shepherd sleeping with his head on the gravestone. There are police sirens not pan … Continue reading

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When Duolingo has no word for trust

It’s one of those languages where you have only a passive understanding, when you can translate out of but not into a foreign tongue. They offer rationales for why, this time, you should let go of the float clamped in … Continue reading

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Lisbon Minibreak

Each evening the sunset tours depart, fishing skiffs scuffing the flaming sea. The hills across the estuary melt into the sky. We see them from the picture window five floors above the doorway where skunk passes from hand to hand. … Continue reading

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On Foraging

The norm is from hedgerows, chestnuts prised from pointy coffins, sloes to sharpen gin; blackberries which ink the skin before they flavour-stain your toast. Or grovel on the ground for ramsons, dandelions, sorrel – salads to live by. But you … Continue reading

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