You will never know my best-kept secret. I’m almost certain that it is not shareable — you can’t push your thumbs into it and hand out its segments.
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We grew up fearful and confused
When I was a little girl, everyone around me believed that sex was a sin.
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The teeth in the texts
It clicks in my head like magic, like a small lamp switching on in the corner of the stage, outside the spotlight.
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Editorial: writing the past
We asked four writers to reflect on different aspects of how they write the past: from personal history to a country’s official past…
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Against the ignorant sun
The first gay couple I ever saw in real life was a pair of Dutch film festival co-directors who visited Pasar Rawalumbu, a market where my mother ran a kiosk selling clothes.
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The past is a dimension of the present: a conversation with Javier Cercas
‘I’m not interested in history itself. I’m interested in the past that has not passed.’
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