3types — read deeply, write freely: fiction, nonfiction and poetry

i actually had to put my phone down after this chapter. the bit about the tide coming in through the floorboards ruined me.

this essay put words to something i've been circling for two years. the paragraph on taste as memory, specifically.

read this on the bus and missed my stop. the last three lines are unfair.

my mother cooks exactly like this. i didn't know that was a thing other people carried too.

chapter three is where this stops being a ghost story and starts being about rent. genuinely brilliant turn.

the small hours poems feel like reading someone's notes app at 4am, in the best possible way.

i keep sending this to people who have just moved cities. it explains the specific loneliness of it.