A hospital where even the vending machine doesn’t work. She’d have seen it as a bad omen, if she’d believed in such things. Which she didn’t.
For a long time, I don’t even remember how long, I’ve lived in abstract places.
His trousers are pulled down and shirt lifted; beneath his hairy, wobbling belly, he holds a red cockerel in both hands, swinging it from side to side…
And they had been worried that she might catch a cold.
Perhaps they could go and live there, with Kolk as a bogeyman to scare the natives.
She can’t know that when she gives that smile to someone else, I ache inside.
Suzanne Joinson reflects on being translated in Myanmar
Link the Worlds opened up Myanmar and its writers to the world.
Translations of work by two Burmese writers, Nay Myo and Min Khite Soe San.
In this year's Sebald Lecture, AL Kennedy looks at the practical reality for an author of having work translated, of the language of one heart passing to another.