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Cluster index: Vik Shirley

Seven very small fictions.

Vik Shirley: ‘In more recent times, he’d stopped writing and had given up his clothes and possessions, everything other than an authentic animal-skin smock he’d bought at a Prehistoric Man convention in Stroud, back in 1995, and a couple of Neolithic bones. He now spent most of his time drawing on the walls of his London flat, hunting foxes by night, cooking them over small managed fires in his living room, devouring them keenly, without the aid of utensils.’