It's the night before my final exam, and there's an inevitable pulse of nostalgia. It feels a bit like Donne's 'the world's last night'; fittingly, as this last exam is on the Renaissance. A red carnation day.
I’ve a short story in the latest edition of The Stinging Fly , which is a brilliant Irish literary journal. If you’d like a copy (or if you like Claire-Louise Bennett or Kevin Barry or Danielle McLaughlin or Colin Barrett, who’ve all been published by SF ) you can get it here Or, you know, go to Dublin.
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