Author David Chapman

Fiction
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The rower was neither a young man nor particularly old. His tumble of grey hair…

Fiction
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“This is The Salter Programme.” The voice was British, educated, with a working class burr. “I am calling from Tokyo, and want to inform you that your film script has been selected by our cultural exchange programme.”

Fiction
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In the depths of my sleep, a niggle prompts me to turn over, and the resulting disarrangement causes me to frown in annoyance. I am now aware of my retina, and the daylight penetrating the thin membrane of my closed eyelid.