Arja Salafranca

Nat Gutman’s wife was twenty-six when this one was taken. She stares out at the stale crusts of bread and bits of herring that are supper to...

The invite said: Wear red, play dead, Put your head in a gilded cage. Come as your favourite rock star. Wear black, change your name, buy a ...

It’s the kittens in the window that draw us together, a grandmother with grandchildren, and me, passing through. We bend close, she shows th...

Frost covers the grass, the trees, the shed, the benches in the garden. It looks like snow. The pavements are icy. I crunch along, leaving f...

Waiters in plaid shirts and cowboy hats take our orders for hamburgers, ketchup, French fries. At the fish restaurant there’s a queue twenty...

The sky is as high and blue as it was all those years ago. The air is crispy, crunchy clean, sharp. Campus is quiet, students sit on the ben...

There were sixteen years between us, three children, your wife, a whole life. There were thirty kilos between us, a couple of hundred thousa...

Performed at Old Mutual Theatre on the Square, Sandton, Johannesburg Hard Love is a play inspired by a real incident in the life of Israeli...

Review of The Imposter , Damon Galgut, Penguin This is a quiet, powerful story, a novel trimmed of excess, where every word means what it sh...