Editorial?

This is not a story - it's just to say: thank you for reading our stories over the past month, it's been great, and hopefully we can do something like this again.


This week's update features three stories instead of the usual five (Nicola and Olivia are away).

Big thanks to all the writers for some amazing pieces and to Olivia for running the blog every week prior to this.

Enjoy and keep an eye out for more writing in the future.

Kimon

(Stories below)

The well-kept secret of Byron van Byron

By Etienne van Bart 

Byron van Byron
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Byron van Byron (born 8 June 1975) is a trance producer from Rotterdam, Netherlands. Since the 1990s he has consistently released a string of highly successful albums under various aliases. His productions and remixes have received extensive radio and Internet play, and they almost invariably do well in the dance music charts, often reaching the top. His music is played in clubs and concerts around the world.

An empirical fact

By Jess Richards

I guess I’m a journalist. Really living for what I do. Well not a journalist, more of a documentary filmmaker. I film, edit, interview, cut, you name it. I don’t make them yet of course, as I don’t have a camera, but I plan to. I have all the ideas. I have the ambition and I know what is important. Like, for one, I’ll never make wildlife documentaries. Those are for failures. Those people who do not have the gift have to resort to filming animals and go into wildlife films. It’s true.

Bottle it up

By Kimon de Greef

This is what the drunk feels as he swallows the liquid: shame, a clean burning in his throat, and then a glowing sense of peace. He puts the bottle down on the small table next to the telephone. There is a long wooden passage with doorways leading off on either side and at the end of it is the front door that opens out onto the street. The drunk peers down the passage towards the front door with its blue and red stained glass window and thinks, “I have to replace the burglar bars on that, I really must. I'll do it tomorrow.” But not now, it's nearly evening. He lifts the bottle and takes another drink.

Freckle

By Kimon de Greef

It was quite late in the night and we had been drinking. An empty bottle of wine sat on the table between us. We had stopped using glasses and a fair bit had spilled down the side and dried in a brown patch on the label.

“That stain looks like Africa,” my friend said. “Look – there's Somalia.”