The New Yorker seems back to form, after what seemed like (to me) a string of stories I was not that keen on. I really liked “The Ukraine” by Artem Chapeye (it just gives a feeling of warmth and love, despite being about death) and “Wood Sorrel House” by Zach Williams (one of those stories of the uncanny, slightly Grimm-like). But OMFG the story by Camille Bordas, “One Sun Only” was pure amazing incredible perfect short story, both in acknowledgment of the form, and in the content. Beautiful style and voice. Normally I dislike stories featuring children (too easy, and Zach Williams story in that sense is a bit ‘too easy’). But this one is insightful and honest.