The Gaza Strips
By Christos Tsiolkas
I’m ageing; I’m becoming the old fart I never wished to be. I am succumbing to nostalgia and its lethal evil twin, bitterness. I listen to the radio – or, recently, more often a 30-second grab of a song on iTunes – and I think that popular music just can’t cut it anymore, that it all speaks in the same safe, sanitised, über-technocratic voice. Eve