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Alice Hattrick
Alice Hattrick is a writer and producer based in London. Their book on unexplained illness, intimacy and mother-daughter relationships, titled Ill Feelings, will be published by Fitzcarraldo Editions in 2021.


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Ill Feelings

Feature

Issue No. 19

Alice Hattrick

Feature

Issue No. 19

My mother recently found some loose diary pages I wrote in my first year of boarding school, aged eleven, whilst she was clearing out...

Art

February 2016

'Look at me, I said to the glass in a whisper, a breath.'

Alice Hattrick

Art

February 2016

Listen to her. She is telling you about her adolescence. She is telling you about one particular ‘bender’ that...

‘World finance had, in 2008, a near-death experience’   The words belong to a partner of a renowned international law firm The partner was standing at the podium, looking over a sea of bearded faces within which bobbed a scattering of men and women without any facial hair, some of whom (those from firms that were days away from collapsing) were jotting down every word as if the speech were a newly unearthed Gospel The partner was trying his best to kill time before the introductory speaker showed up It was already 08:30 and he had yet to arrive The partner therefore ad-libbed into the dark sea, praying that nobody was really listening to what he was saying   The introductory speaker – a Revenue Recognition Analyst for the redundantly named Halal Islamic Bank (HIB) – reached the office of the renowned international law firm at 08:32, two minutes after the time he was supposed to have started the address for the Gillette-sponsored Islamic Banking Roadshow He was late because this was his first time at that particular law firm’s offices and the blue GPS-dot on his mobile phone had been bouncing about erratically in the City which had led him to take a taxi, which should have been faster than walking but wasn’t His face was covered in a film of sweat, lubricating his nose and making his glasses slide down The woman who greeted him at the reception was pretty, then, until he pushed them back up She gave him a concerned look, then checked him off the list and opened the little glass gate that led to the elevators The elevator mirrors confirmed what he had feared ever since he got into the taxi: his left underarm was covered in sweat   He had a tendency to sweat profusely, so much so that it would seep through not only his undershirt, but also his shirt and in extreme cases such as today, even his jacket The reason his right armpit was dry was because he had received a Botox®-injection to stop the sweating three days ago They had called it an injection,

Contributor

August 2014

Alice Hattrick

Contributor

August 2014

Alice Hattrick is a writer and producer based in London. Their book on unexplained illness, intimacy and mother-daughter relationships,...

(holes)

Art

July 2014

Alice Hattrick

Kristina Buch

Art

July 2014

There are many ways to make sense of the world, through language, speech and text, but also the senses and their extensions. In his...

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fiction

November 2016

The Miserablist

Anne Boyer

fiction

November 2016

This vision was strongly nebulous, an indeterminate but bold reaction only because it was so much like one of...

feature

May 2016

Postcard from Istanbul

Sydney Ribot

feature

May 2016

    Saturday       On March 19, at 1 p.m. in a café off Turnacibaşı St., an...

feature

Issue No. 15

A Weekend With My Own Death

Gabriela Wiener

TR. Lucy Greaves

feature

Issue No. 15

We all have tombs from which we travel. To reach mine I have to get a lift with some...

 

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