“There is a fish in the mirror. The mirror is above the washbasin in the corner of your hostel room.”
The opening lines of a book I love for its fractured intensity. Reading it is like being plunged into a bruise, one that stains Zimbabweans everywhere.
Hello out there (or in there),
I hope that wherever you are, all is as well as possible with you and your families.
My apologies for the long silence from The Phraser. My excuse is that I’m trying to write a novel. When I set off with this grand, novel-writing plan, I did not realise how difficult it would be. There has been some progress, but I’m still not sure in which direction.
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My visit to this art exhibition in early October 2020 felt like a journey into a fragile time warp. I left it filled with nostalgia for the land where I was born … and with a question.
How would this show of school art from Africa, intended originally for international audiences in the 1940s, be seen in the middle of Black History Month in London, over seventy years later?
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The Phraser 