The work below is by Dora Maludi as part of our MA Creative Writers takeover.
It came from happiness,
I kept swallowing air
Burnt sugar dancing
In the cool English summer
You’re probably thinking about diabetes
You’re probably thinking that this sweetness won’t last for long, but a night with it is enough to carry into the next morning.
I drank the fair of all of its colour and still found myself wanting more
Sweet surrender on the peak of the Ferris wheel
Tasting all of your anxieties, the jubilation of the people beneath us
Let me have more
We did not need to re live through iPhone photography but
His story was a blurred photo of him, presumably dancing, in the middle of a supermarket car park. The streetlight luminated him in such a way that made him appear as unreal.
A Two-Part Episode About Flying
Always jumping through to 3 because my legs told me to, since it was the closest thing to flight for our restricted forms that didn’t know fear, into the sandpit, into to the makeshift bed, floating, on the train back from Willesden the steps towards the house were reminiscent of gliding, no, I soared home with intensity, and when I was high alone one day I scoped through Waterloo Station and only then could I begin to grieve, all of this life and you’re below or at some heavenly height, how us being in the same house gave me gravity.
Us humans, obsessed with acts of defying, comprising manufactured air time, will see very small of the sky within our own means, teleporting our bodies out into the clouds because we just learned one day that we could, your country will Capitalise on suspension, limit what our bodies have always wanted. There is a point where we’d resort to illegal flight which felt even better, this taste of departure we should abandon by law does not keep the tastebuds from wanting, all our bodies by these clouds,