By Selma Carvalho
The Friday they leave for a weekend in Belgium, Anju discovers Freddo is cheating on her. She doesn’t share her knowledge with him. What she should have said was, ‘Freddo, I’m tired of this shit. This time, I’m leaving.’
Her heart feels like it is going to stop breathing all on its own, distinct from the rest of her. The pain is so intense, she realises it is possible for the rest of her body to survive the carnage, while her heart, expelled from her being like a refugee, would simply die.
By Sahib Nazari
Issue no 20
An APWT publication
‘We’re vampires,’ said the young barman when I asked if he had a day job, ‘we work after dark and sleep before sunrise. My wife work day time.’ He brushed his black whiskers as thin as his eyelashes. ‘I work night time.’ His slim eyes enveloped dreams and hope, said he had three children, and his parents share their tiny shack with them.
By Dean Kerrison
Issue no 20
An APWT publication
If I could find the proper words to make sense of history and be on the right side, I’d assemble them in a neat package, use them as bricks to build a structure in which to sit and live, because that’s what we do, build armies, empires and arguments, in essays and on Facebook and Twitter threads, crushing the enemy with swords and guns and ad hominem rhetoric, then instead of following Ghenghis Khan’s horse to chew Eurasia…
