About The Junket
The Junket is an online quarterly featuring essays, short fiction and poetry. Founded in 2011, it exists as an excuse for writing: to justify the graft of its making, and indulge the mischief it continues to make.
From the Archive
Tim Smith-Laing
Omiyage: a souvenir
I Ikimasenka, watashitachi? when the evening is spread out against the sky, can we visit the temples together, ishoni? They light them up each night, and I would like to see the golden and the silve… Read article
Florence Waters
Grandpa Budgie
Crackers used to fly freely around our old Oxfordshire farmhouse. He was free to escape, but he never did, and free to sit with us, which he did often. His favourite perch was Grandpa Budgie’s head.… Read article
Emily Rhodes
Six Views from a Window
I wonder how many hours I’ve spent looking out of windows. Stitched together, they would stretch into weeks, perhaps months. Into the human harmony Windows are points of connection between interio… Read article
Matthew Sperling
Cloak
When was the last time Sam sat in this room. It must have been three years ago. April 2012. Nothing had changed in the room since then, except that the plastic chairs were now a bit more scuffed and k… Read article
David B. Hobbs
Working Space Thinking
‘But inasmuch as any entity within-the-world is likewise in space, its spatiality will have an ontological connection with the world’ – Heidegger I. I’m on a couch at the back of Columbi… Read article
From the Current Issue
Molly Taylor
Reluctance
I am happy staying put; not joining in. But your sun-stroked face keeps peeping around the corner of the day room: eyes locked, that fierce smile, your whole heaving body beckoning me to better w… Read article
Nick Hunt
Fung’s
I drove past Fung’s a few days ago. Of course, it isn’t Fung’s now. It’s an empty building surrounded by weeds, an ugly breezeblock shell. There’s plywood over the sliding doors, and a spind… Read article
Tom Offland
EXCUSE ME GHOST
The Famennian Age Extinction Last night I saw the Famennian Age Extinction in an off-licence in Camberwell Green. It was dressed in hospital sandals and soiled hospital slacks. Holding a leather hosp… Read article
Full Issue Here
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