The Writers’ Quarter: a man is strapped to a chair, his head hanging down, a gas mask attached to his mouth. His body shudders, words dripping into his subconscious, one by one. Photograph: Juan Monino/Getty

I wake and I am cold. I wake and I am hungry. I wake and I start to search for the words, for the stories. “Veronica.” I grab her shoulder and sq(...)

Illustration: iStock

The missus and me were up on the roof of the Ilac shopping centre, trying to catch a few eels for dinner, when we saw the ship come drifting out of t(...)