FARRAGO

Welcome to Canon in She, a column about female composers of Western classical music, and a few major trailblazers in electronic music as well. Today, I present three brilliant women from the 20th century.

Eleanor pauses in her tracks, sucking in a breath as she turns not to face the man, but the arched windows that line the passage. 
Aquitaine stretches out before her, its beauty incomparable to filthy, cramped Paris.

Bonjour, mon amour! I think perhaps you are the muse I’ve been searching for.

The first child born to a god brought the moon back.

In an age where we can barely last the year without
buying a new smartphone and throw ageing possessions before they have a chance to decay, it’s puzzling why we still refuse to throw away the remnants of the toxic colonial mindset.

Language has faced an onslaught of changes in the face of globalisation, as influences from across the world fight against local ideals of what a language should be. Language academies—organisations that act as regulatory bodies of different languages—are leading the fight against changes to language they perceive as illegitimate.

After my breakup with the Michael Clifford lookalike, I started seeing more people of colour. Not that Michael Clifford ruined white men for me, I just felt more comfortable around people like me.

Murder and general mayhem sound just like your good old-fashioned fairy tales, something left behind in the myths and legends that belong in forgotten derelict book-shelves. Beware sensationalism but the reality is that it’s all just life, kids.

There’s an attic which is filled with what could be imagined for Emily Dickinson, her backstory and personality upon finding herself in an Alice-in-Wonderland style scenario. I imagine those things with a thin film of dust, and the windows open to the huge clouds.

The words resonate as they pass through Annalise’s sunken mind but like a shooting star; disappearing into the void as quickly as they came.