illiteratus.com
Unauthorised Translations. Fractured Philology.
Category: Fictions
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by Justin Loke He had come to believe, not without a certain embarrassment, that what he required was documentation. It was something stamped, laminated. It was for this reason, or so he later insisted, that he found himself one morning at the embassy, among others whose faces bore the same provisional quality. He carried with…
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by Justin Loke I took the book from the shelf and left it on the table for a few days. It is Los papeles de Herralde. It is the photo on the cover, not the content, the two chairs that contain a punctum for me in the picture. My family had these chairs before as…
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You were very sick during that year. Bedridden in the hospital, unable to walk, you lay staring at the black TV screen in the room. The TV was off. The flat screen, slightly tilted, on the wall like a painting not properly hung. The book you had with you contained an essay titled Discovery of…
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La Arena by Justin Loke Ng Sua Ping, a Teochew Singaporean, grew up in the Robertson Quay area, also known as Au Pa Yoh, or Chwee Long Lai. He didn’t complete secondary school and was orphaned at eighteen. As a child, he had once unwittingly warned a young British soldier at Bugis Street night market…
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by Justin Loke Fred Tan was a Singaporean born in 1970. Some of the people remembered him for his love of music and books, enduring loyalty to obsolete forms, his belief in unseen influences, and his quiet resistance to the logic of substitution. His life, though modest in outward appearance, was shaped by a series…
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