
Claire-Louise Bennett Reads “Invisible Bird”
The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker
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The Last Tango in Paris
I discovered early on in life that the ripe music can lend a glamorous edge to even the most dismal circumstances. I paid a lot of attention to the things around me, but more resisted prying into them too much. For a little while, my boy friend and i busked in temple bar. It consisted of us standing in a flamboyant, romantic clinch, completely motionless on the iof a kiss. This was just before those thickly painted human statues became ubiquitous in all the european cities. Though in any case, pretending to be statues wasn't really what we were up to. The fact that we were about to kiss was a huge advantage because it meant that
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