I met the great Iranian novelist Mahmoud Dowlatabadi in 2006. We had the same publisher, and through them he sent me a message inviting me to tea at the Azadi Hotel in northern Tehran. At one point he told me: ‘Everyone says great writers know what to write and how to write. But everybody can figure that out. What matters is knowing where to write from.’
I was too young to get his point. Many of Dowlatabadi’s books are set in his hometown in Khorasan, and I assumed he was championing a sort of primordial loyalty to one’s origins. I didn’t want to be that kind of writer. I longed to be metropolitan and worldly, the kind of eastern writer the West notices and praises. It wasn’t until two decades later, in June 2025, as I watched Israeli jets bomb Tehran with impunity, that I understood what he meant.
Ukrainian war veterans at basketball practice in Odesa. Photo © Lukasz Mackiewicz
The Ministry of Veteran Affairs, established in 2018, oversees housing, healthcare and financial support for former soldiers. But the road from the front to these reintegration programmes can be long and winding.
The Canongate Wall outside the Scottish Parliament building, Edinburgh. (Peter Titmuss/Alamy)
The stone suits the poetry. Or perhaps it’s the other way round. I think poetry suits stone, more than it suits paper, certainly more than it suits a screen.
During a parliamentary debate on the Terrorism Bill in 2000, MPs asked whether the legislation could be used to proscribe Greenpeace as a terrorist organisation. The group had, in recent years, temporarily blocked nuclear warhead production at AWE Aldermaston, spray-painted a power station and destroyed a field of genetically modified maize. The home secretary, Jack Straw, replied that he ‘knew of no evidence whatever that Greenpeace is involved in any activity that would fall remotely under the scope of this measure’. Proscription was a ‘heavy power’ that would be used only when ‘absolutely necessary’, he said, and the Human Rights Act 1998 was a ‘profound safeguard’ against its disproportionate use.
The US has declared an uncertain and messy end to its attack on Iran. Trump announced a ceasefire some hours before it was acknowledged by Israel and Iran, and later said both sides had violated it (‘they don’t know what the fuck they’re doing,’ he complained). Overall it seems likely to hold, for a while at least.
Ouvidor 63, São Paulo (Richard J. Williams)
Ouvidor 63 is an illegal but tolerated artist-led occupation of an office block in downtown São Paulo. There are perhaps two hundred artists living and working in the ‘largest artist-led occupation in Latin America’. Occupations have become rarer in the UK, especially since 2012 when legislation in England and Wales made squatting a criminal offence punishable by six months’ imprisonment. But for many people of my generation, squatting was formative. My social life as an art student in 1980s London centred on gigs in abandoned cinemas and police stations. The culture is alive and well in Brazil, though, and in São Paulo in particular.
‘Can’t you ping elsewhere?’ The question, daubed on the twelve-foot green fences encircling much of Brockwell Park in South London, has long been on the minds of local residents. For months, the park has been the subject of a battle over urban public space and culture. Austerity is driving it. Facing a large budget deficit, Lambeth Council is expected to cut local services by £99 million over the next two years. To boost its income, the council has been renting out Brockwell Park to Summer Events Ltd (which operates under the brand name Brockwell Live) since 2018. Between 23 May and 8 June this year, the park hosted five festivals – Wide Awake, Field Day, Cross The Tracks, City Splash and Mighty Hoopla, followed by the non-commercial Lambeth Country Show. As well as the direct revenue, the events boost trade for local pubs and music venues.