Friday 12th June 2026

Rebecca Bushee

A love letter to my year abroad 

A year is a long time: enough to call a place home, enough to strip away the bright facade of newness. I’ve spent my...

It takes a village, but no one wants to be a villager

Oxford is full of busy people. It can seem at times like you are fighting for space in between someone’s various committee obligations, tutorials, and frantic essay crises.

How places are made: A meditation in the City of Love

Places are formed from memories etched into streets, from ghosts which dwell in between moments. They’re shaped by the dreams and aspirations which have been poured into quiet, hidden hollows, like that shop in Paris.

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