My Agent

Her name was Serafina Clarke, and I met her through Santa Claus. She died a few days ago, in the village of Gaucin in Andalusia, which she had belatedly made her home – quite a jump from Shepherd’s Bush; but nothing about her was ever entirely expected. I still know very little about her – […]

What A Bullfight Sounds Like

In the back-alleys of my overstuffed iTunes files I recently found all my old voice memos, from a rainstorm in Sri Lanka to kodo drummers in Japan, and this, matador Padilla’s return to the bullring after being gored through the eyeball, complete with cheers and a brass band. If you audio-scripted it you’d be accused […]