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Orlando Reade

Orlando Reade is writing a Ph.D. on English poetry and cosmology in the seventeenth century. His interview with Lynette Yiadom-Boakye can be read in The White Review No. 13.



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Wildness of the Day

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December 2016

Orlando Reade

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December 2016

One day in late 2011, waiting outside Green Park station, my gaze was drawn to an unexpected sight. Earlier that year a canopy of...

Interview

Issue No. 13

Lynette Yiadom-Boakye

Orlando Reade

Interview

Issue No. 13

Modern philosophy is threatened by love, whose objects are never only objects. Philosophers have discovered in love a lived...

The automatic rifle fire was followed by an unnerving whistle at Ti’s ear He gripped the shopping bags, grabbed Lo Ling’s arm and pulled her into a sprint Together they made for the alleys with the rest of the crowd   He could not believe it – the troops were shooting again His shock endured even as a line of wet red spattered up his shirtsleeve A man spun and fell Any thought of helping was gone before it was fully considered The pulpy mess was soon out of sight   Lo Ling was screaming, struggling to keep up Ti held firm at her elbow He dared not slow down His grandfather’s sìhéyuàn was close by and would be safe   There was another crack of gunfire More whistles Panic stretched across his belly, bound tighter and tighter by the footfall of everyone running The relentless stomp-stomp-stomp alarmed him most, over the barging and stumbling; the regular cries of ‘They’re coming! They’re coming!’   Not for the first time, he cursed the students in the square His anger was personal, far from any political point of view More than anything he wished for a return to normality   If the students dispersed, the army would leave and order could be restored, which was best for all People could get on with their lives He could get on with courting Lo Ling in peace   ‘I need to stop,’ she called behind   ‘Not far to Wài Gōng’s,’ he answered and hauled her into another side lane of the hútòng   They ran on, as fast as his heavying legs and scorching lungs could carry them His grandfather’s courtyard residence was at the end of the next passage, less than ten minutes’ away   ‘Please’ Lo Ling pulled harder against him ‘I’m going to be ill,’ she sobbed   Hesitantly, he stopped to let her catch her breath She bent double and panted at a wall Despite a searing thud to his own chest, he fought the urge to join her   Their fellow citizens rushed by They warned Ti not to stay out of doors It was not safe tonight He nodded at them politely, a whir in his ears causing

Contributor

August 2014

Orlando Reade

Contributor

August 2014

Orlando Reade is writing a Ph.D. on English poetry and cosmology in the seventeenth century. His interview with Lynette...

Life outside the Manet Paradise Resort : On the paintings of Lynette Yiadom-Boakye

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November 2012

Orlando Reade

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November 2012

*   A person is represented, sitting in what appears to be the banal and conventional pose of a high street studio portrait photographer:...

READ NEXT

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April 2012

Oradour-sur-Glane: Reflections on the Culture of Memorial in Europe

Will Stone

feature

April 2012

Que nos caravanes s’avancent Vers ce lieu marqué par le sang Une plaie au coeur de la France Y...

Art

Issue No. 10

Patterns

Christian Newby

Art

Issue No. 10

poetry

September 2012

Letter from a New City to an Old Friend

Cutter Streeby

poetry

September 2012

Letter from a New City to an Old Friend     [SEAside          Gra-                         –i.m. Ronny Burhop 1987-2010                                                                      ffiti]...

 

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