My next essay is up on The Female Gaze Review. Here’s a taster:
How do you imagine the end of the world? I have a theory that everyone has their own private notion of apocalypse. Of course there are recurring themes – the world utterly without us, without life, back to a rock floating in cold, empty space. Or else, bands of leather-clad misfits roaming the desert. At any rate, civilisation brought to ruin. Once beautiful buildings toppled. Cityscapes grey and dusty, or flooded, swirled in oceanic blues. Or a 1950s TV set playing soft static to itself in a glass-filled living room as the sun looms red. Or nuclear shadows burnt on the roadsides and the school yards and strange rain falling.