Last weekend, I went to a farm. A friend and I picked apples, chillies, peppers, cauliflower, raspberries, and tomatoes, popping berries into our mouths and crunching down on the waxy skins of apples along the way. After a few hours, we had our hand-selected produce weighed, paid what was due, and exited back out to the entrance of the property. I smoked a cigarette whilst my friend took out the croissants, soup-in-thermos, cheese and ham we had prepared for lunch and, given that there were n...

I am a heinous hoarder of tabs. You know how it goes: an article peaks my interest, or I tumble into a rabbit hole of research and open multiple resources at the same time, I never get around to reading all of them, but each one is exceptionally important and so I leave them open. First, for days. I mean, surely I'll find a 20 minute slice of time to read the text in the next day or two, right? Then before I know it... it's been months. Today I've decided: why don't we let the cat out the bag?

This weekend I went for a girl walk. I describe a 'girl walk' as the following: A walk that takes on a distinctly feminine aesthetic(1), usually (though not necessarily) within a metropolitan city, which takes into consideration and assumes the politics of the street that are so often violent towards women and nonbinary people. It is a feminist and anti-capitalistic act.