It’s not the pen and ink drawing of the Sea Onion that interests me so much as the word squill. Squill sounds like a portmanteau word made from fusing together parts of existing words. Like “brunch” or “labradoodle”. My lips form into a petulant pout when I say it aloud and the blend of squidand Read More
A fine anatomical agony: Mouth wide open portcullis-like Tongue, teeth, tonsils hang Eyes closed like smooth marble stones It’s all in the head. Shriek. Skelloch. Der Shrei der Natur. The Scream of Nature. Skrik. (‘Skrik’ is Norwegian for Shriek) © Loretta Mullholland From A Cabinet of Curiosities: Reimagining Rare Books. A disparate trove of pieces created by students Read More
Silence echoes through the village. Eyes look down as I pass, like cars dipping headlights. It is dark. I see Johanna, my friend. Fingers on my arm. Her touch warms me. She looks to my side as if half-expecting Maria to be there. We don’t speak. My eyes follow a bird, a robin I think, Read More
Dear Mrs Brooksbank, You would be pleased to know that Allan Ramsay’s reputation endures. His poetry is remembered on the wall of Greyfriars Kirk; his face gazes out fondly across Princes Street at pilgrims journeying through this city on their cultural quests. What was your connection to him? Were you, like him, a Stuart sympathiser. Read More
Monday 16 April Tonight was the first and last date with Geoff. 43 solid minutes I listened to him droning on at one point. I texted Jules at 7:01 telling her he’d just started talking about mushrooms and at 7:44 he was still going. Who knew there was so much to learn? Apparently, he recently Read More
We left the train station and turned right, towards the river Tilt. Close to the track we found a shop and a public toilet, for one last stop before heading up the valley. Mark bought an apple and a block of chocolate. I found an off-brand sports drink in the fridge and gulped it all. Read More
Find as far inland as Kintyre can allow, map back to an almost-anywhere dot. Out of seasight. Still, on clouded nights, watch Rathlin’s lit pattern censer past. A little industrial structure. One bog-footed cave built for burning. All rabbit shit, trotting-in lost sheep, broken curves open to host brackening rain. A dripped-on Alice, shrunk on Read More
Patron Saint of Disappointing Children Praise to this book, now heavy with scurf, pages moist with the persistence of must, your words still breathing, though only just on the bowed shelves of the house of your birth. Praise to the dynasty of something and nothing, the house of which you one day will be head, Read More
Susan Nickalls, a freelance journalist and former student of the Writing Practice and Study programme at the University of Dundee, in conversation with the Japanese architect, Kengo Kuma, on the design and building of the V&A Dundee. The interview was filmed at Discovery Point. DURA is grateful for the use of Discovery Point Premises. A Read More
