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Inter Milan's manager, Christian Chivu, celebrated a hard-fought victory over Como, acknowledging the significance of the win but playing it coy when discussing the title race. Inter Milan now sits nine points clear of second-placed Napoli, who were held to a 1-1 draw by Parma. Scott McTominay scored for Napoli, highlighting his importance to the team with eight goals from midfield this season. Napoli's title defense looks increasingly unlikely to succeed, especially considering their investments in new players who have not made the desired impact. The team has struggled with injuries and inconsistent form, and their defensive record has deteriorated, conceding four more goals than in the previous season. The future of Napoli's star player, Romelu Lukaku, remains uncertain amid reports of tension between him and the club. Lukaku has played only 40 minutes of Serie A football this season and has been rehabbing in Belgium, sparking speculation about his potential departure. Inter Milan's ruthless performance against Como, with Marcus Thuram and Denzel Dumfries each scoring twice, underscores their strong position in the league. They have scored 75 goals in 32 games, significantly more than any other team in Serie A. The Serie A table shows Inter Milan at the top with 75 points, followed by Napoli with 66 points. The top five teams are: Inter Milan - 75 points Napoli - 66 points AC Milan - 63 points Juventus - 60 points Como - 58 points

On a recent weekday evening, a special bus tour whisked art lovers through over twelve galleries and museums that stayed open until midnight, offering a late‑night glimpse of the Abidjan Art Week programme.The after‑hours event, dubbed the Night of the Galleries, was first trialled in January 2024 alongside the Africa Cup of Nations – a tournament that Côte d’Ivoire both hosted and won – and has become a staple of the festival’s third edition, which ran from Tuesday to Sunday.Since its inception, the week has broadened its footprint, moving beyond the city centre to include venues such as the La Rotonde des Arts contemporary‑arts hub in the Plateau district and the Adama Toungara Museum of Contemporary Cultures (MuCAT) in the working‑class neighbourhood of Abobo.Local collectors are emerging in force. MuCAT has hosted the Africa Foto Fair each year since 2022, and the Marché des Arts du Spectacle d’Abidjan – the city’s answer to the Dakar Biennale – is set to launch its 14th edition later this month.A graffiti festival launched two years ago has transformed the perception of street art, with vibrant murals now adorning the façade of the La Pyramide building and several upscale hotels in Plateau.Organisers stress that the festival’s growth should be independent of external validation. This year’s roster featured artists from Cameroon, the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Mali, and the number of participating galleries more than doubled compared with previous editions.Founder Yacouba Konaté, who also directs La Rotonde des Arts, highlighted the festival’s commitment to accessibility, arguing that art should not be seen as an elite pastime.The opening tribute honoured Simone Guirandou‑N’Diaye, a pioneering Ivorian art historian whose legacy lives on through Galerie LouiSimone Guirandou, now run with her daughter Gazelle.Among the week’s highlights, MuCAT presented Murmures d’Archives, a quieter, archival‑focused exhibition that concluded with an artists’ workshop and a DJ set.In the upscale Cocody district, New York‑based artist Ouattara Watts staged a solo show at Galerie Cécile Fakhoury, drawing the Ivorian diaspora into dialogue with the local scene. Watts explained that his work aims to transcend borders, describing it as “a vision that goes beyond any map – it is the cosmos that I paint.”

At the break of day in Keswick, the air still carries a chill despite it being April. From a drystone wall on St John’s Vale, I watched the sky race past Helvellyn, while bright daffodils bowed on a nearby farm as if shivering in the breeze. The surrounding trees stood still, and a shaft of sunlight ignited the bracken below the crags, turning it a vivid colour that starkly contrasted with the dead grass and dark scree. This scene illustrates a place where change has settled gently, with farms preserving their protective belts of trees that nestle comfortably against the fell’s edge.The low fields echoed with the call of curlews, and although some farmers elsewhere lament a lack of moisture, the land here was saturated; the river ran brown with flood‑water and the becks churned white. Many ewes were gathered for lambing, yet one independent ewe chose to give birth alone on a small green shelf in a ghyll above a stream. The newborn lamb was still damp and trembling when a farmhand arrived in his tractor, loading the pair onto a hay‑lined trailer to bring them back to the safety of the farm, fearing the lamb might tumble into the beck as its mother went to drink.

Asha Bhosle, the iconic voice of Bollywood for over seven decades, has died at age 92 in Mumbai, according to her family. The two‑time Grammy nominee passed away on Sunday at Breach Candy Hospital, where she had been admitted for "extreme exhaustion" and a chest infection. Her son, Anand Bhosle, confirmed the news to reporters, stating, "My mother passed away today. Her last rites will be held tomorrow at Shivaji Park in Mumbai." Throughout her prolific career, Bhosle recorded more than 12,000 songs in multiple Indian languages, shaping the soundscape of Bollywood cinema from the 1970s through the 1980s and beyond. Prime Minister Narendra Modi expressed his sorrow, describing himself as "deeply saddened" by the loss of a cultural legend whose music resonated across generations. The nation now prepares to bid farewell to a figure whose contributions to Indian music remain unparalleled, with funeral services set for Shivaji Park, a venue symbolic of her enduring legacy.

Asha Bhosle, the iconic voice of Bollywood, passed away at age 92 after being hospitalized in Mumbai with severe exhaustion and a chest infection, her family confirmed.Her son, Anand Bhosle, told reporters that his mother died on Sunday and that her last rites would be performed the following day at Shivaji Park in Mumbai.Over a career that stretched across nearly eight decades, Bhosle recorded more than 12,000 songs, pioneering cabaret and Western‑influenced styles that broadened the sonic palette of Indian cinema.India’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi expressed deep sorrow, noting that her "extraordinary musical journey" enriched the nation’s cultural heritage and will continue to inspire future generations.Born on 8 September 1933 into a musical family, she was the younger sister of the celebrated vocalist Lata Mangeshkar, often referred to as “India’s nightingale.” While comparisons were inevitable, Bhosle forged a distinct path, embracing genres from pop to folk.Her early years were marked by hardship, including a turbulent marriage at the age of 16, yet she rose to become one of Indian cinema’s most versatile singers, earning the prestigious Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 2000 and receiving two Grammy nominations.Even in her later years, Bhosle remained artistically active, collaborating with the British virtual band Gorillaz on their album The Mountain, demonstrating her enduring global appeal.Beyond music, she pursued a passion for cuisine, establishing the Asha’s restaurant chain in Dubai and the United Kingdom, further cementing her status as a cultural entrepreneur.Agence France‑Presse and Associated Press contributed to this report.

Zappa Montag walks through a 76‑hectare (189‑acre) forest of redwoods, madrones and oaks that he co‑manages with five other Black residents at Black to the Land in Boonville, California. Powered by solar panels and supplied by a well, the off‑grid ecovillage embodies Montag’s goal to “reverse‑gentrify the country” by creating a self‑sufficient sanctuary for Black people. Intentional communities—small groups united by shared values—have long served Black and Indigenous peoples, ranging from urban co‑housing to rural ecovillages. In the post‑slavery era, tightly knit Black networks relied on mutual aid for business and farming, a tradition that is resurfacing in places like Alabama, Massachusetts and California as a way to revive ancestral agricultural knowledge. Montag and his daughter Bibi Sarai first imagined Black to the Land in 2015, frustrated by the rapid gentrification of Oakland. After a 2021 introduction to the declining Emerald Earth Sanctuary in Mendocino County, the nonprofit transferred stewardship of the property to their group through a verbal and written agreement. Montag describes the hand‑over as a form of reparations—instead of cash, they invest time learning land stewardship. Tragedy struck in February 2023 when Bibi Sarai died unexpectedly. Yet, reports that visitors felt uplifted after summer stays convinced Montag to stay permanently, turning grief into a catalyst for the community’s growth. Today, the community—members ranging from their late 20s to mid‑50s—funds land maintenance through grants, workshops and fundraising. They host classes on building, gardening and foraging, while some members work remotely to cover personal expenses. African plant‑medicine practitioners prepare herbal remedies, and a partnership with Ghanaian ecovillage leaders introduces natural‑building techniques. In addition to cultivating vegetables, the residents construct clay dwellings, practice yoga, and collectively manage chores such as fire‑wood gathering and trench‑building to prevent driveway flooding. Self‑reliance is the guiding principle, especially amid today’s economic uncertainty. The BIPOC Intentional Community Council, founded in 2020, supports Black and brown groups in establishing similar settlements by providing funding, nonprofit‑formation workshops and land‑trust guidance. Board member Crystal Byrd Farmer notes a growing “back‑to‑the‑land” movement as people seek rural roots. While mainstream media sometimes label intentional communities as radical, Farmer argues they echo millennial human practices of mutual support. Most U.S. intentional communities remain majority‑white due to historic capital access, leaving people of color to feel culturally alienated in those spaces. In Alabama, the Ekvn‑Yefolecv ecovillage—run by Indigenous Maskoke families—reclaimed 3,105 hectares (7,674 acres) of ancestral land. Governed matriarchally, residents speak their language daily, practice traditional foraging, reintroduce buffalo and sturgeon, and share land title, offering a model of ecological sustainability and cultural preservation. Massachusetts hosts the Solidarity Arts & Education Decolonial Initiatives (SAEDi) collective, a communal home for women of color that blends art, food sovereignty and reparations work. Rent is adjusted to ability, and members contribute childcare, meals and chores. Plans include a garden, orchard, and a “green residency” program that will archive elders’ agricultural stories online, aiming to boost security for immigrant families amid rising xenophobia. The modern roots of Black intentional living trace back to 1969’s New Communities in Georgia, a civil‑rights‑era farming settlement that pioneered the nation’s first community land trust. Although federal opposition led to its collapse, a 2009 $12 million settlement acknowledged USDA discrimination. Today, the organization runs workshops on land stewardship and mentors new generations of Black farmers. For Montag, the land also serves as a personal memorial. A clay bench honors his late daughter Bibi Sarai, allowing him to “connect with humanity” and keep her spirit alive. Future plans include grief‑focused rituals and a memorial garden, underscoring the belief that joy and healing are essential components of communal living. Increased security and safety Marginalized groups view intentional communities as safe havens for preserving cultural practices and passing knowledge to youth. Elders’ expertise is documented for future generations, reinforcing resilience against systemic oppression. Empowering collective action From the civil‑rights farms of Georgia to contemporary ecovillages in California and Alabama, these settlements illustrate how shared land ownership, communal labor and cultural affirmation can counter gentrification, foster economic independence, and nurture intergenerational healing.

Rehab did not happen to Lena Dunham; she walked into it. The writer describes the moment she entered a stone‑manor facility in the Berkshires, Massachusetts, and was immediately asked to remove her designer shoes and answer mundane questions about her diet, a surreal welcome that felt like a college orientation—except many of the fellow residents struggled with IV heroin. She notes the unsettling blend of patients and staff, all dressed in ordinary clothes, making it impossible to tell who was who. A tattooed man in a Harley‑Davidson shirt turned out to be a sober companion, while a grandmother knitting in slippers battled a severe Benadryl addiction that had once ruined her daughter’s wedding. “Never judge a drug addict by their Patagonia half‑zip fleece,” she writes. Using the pseudonym “Rose O’Neill” – after the pioneering cartoonist – Dunham reflects on feeling trapped in a cycle reminiscent of the late‑career decline of the early 20th‑century artist. It was only after she allowed staff to use her real name that she began to reclaim her identity. Her therapist, Dr. Mark, a kindly man in khakis, asked her to articulate the root causes of her admission. Dunham linked her descent to chronic physical illness, relentless stress from supporting multiple families, hormonal turmoil after a hysterectomy, and a fraught romantic relationship. She also disclosed past sexual trauma, describing the rehab experience as “a fever dream” that echoed those memories. Medication played a paradoxical role. While Klonopin eased anxiety and Percocet dulled pain, the initial IV dose produced a euphoric “shiver through the whole body, better than any orgasm.” She acknowledges the temporary relief as a “pause button” that allowed her racing thoughts to quiet, yet also recognized the danger of dependence. Group sessions revealed complex dynamics. A fellow patient, Walter, breached confidentiality, prompting staff to enforce policy and send him home. The ensuing discussion divided the group, with some defending Walter’s lapse and others demanding accountability. Dunham’s own voice was subdued, emphasizing the tension between personal safety and collective responsibility. In a values‑mapping exercise, Dunham listed ART, FAMILY, MAKING PEOPLE FEEL SEEN as her core priorities, contrasting them with the values of the people she had surrounded herself with during active addiction. This exercise highlighted the stark misalignment between her aspirations and the environment she had inhabited. Despite the strict regimen, Dunham was granted a brief leave to attend the 2018 Met Gala. The decision sparked intense debate among staff about safety, yet she ultimately walked the red carpet, feeling “wan and haunted” amid flashing cameras and champagne she could not enjoy. The experience underscored the surreal juxtaposition of celebrity life and rehab recovery. During the final week, she formally identified as an addict and faced the pivotal question from Dr. Mark: “Do you want to be sober?” The answer marked a turning point, culminating in a moment of pure joy as she ran outdoors, feeling her legs move of their own accord. She closes with a vivid scene of spotting a robin’s egg on the grass, a simple yet profound reminder of life’s unexpected beauty. The memoir Famesick, published by Fourth Estate on 14 April, expands on these revelations and invites readers into the often‑hidden world of addiction behind the celebrity façade.

Netflix's vast library of content often includes films that were initially intended for theatrical release but end up being off-loaded to the streaming platform. The latest example is 'Thrash', a shark thriller that was previously known as 'Beneath the Storm' and 'Shiver'. Despite its promising premise, the film fails to deliver, with critics calling it a messily made, choppily edited and entirely misfiring cavalcade of bad decisions and dodgy accents.The film, directed by Norwegian director Tommy Wirkola, tells the story of a hurricane that destroys a town while also thrusting a pack of bull sharks into the streets and homes of those unlucky enough to still be there. However, the film's distracting sense of inauthenticity and lack of suspense make it a disappointing watch. The cast, including Bridgerton's Phoebe Dynevor and Djimon Hounsou, struggle to elevate the poorly written characters and lackluster dialogue.'Thrash' is now available on Netflix, but it's unlikely to be a hit with viewers. The film's cheap production values and lack of originality make it feel like a low-budget B-movie, rather than a film that was once intended for theatrical release. With Netflix spending around $18bn on content last year, it's surprising that they would accept a film of such poor quality.

Senegal's recent enactment of a harsh anti-gay law has sent shockwaves through the country's LGBTQ+ community and healthcare system. The law, which doubles the maximum prison term to 10 years for same-sex activities and criminalizes the 'promotion' of homosexuality, has led to a surge in arrests and a climate of fear.Over 60 people have been detained since February on charges related to same-sex relations, with many facing forced HIV testing and additional penalties for those who test positive. This has resulted in a significant decline in HIV healthcare services, with a 34.5% drop in consultations recorded at 22 treatment sites across the country.The law's broad framing also risks criminalizing legitimate human rights activities, including those of lawyers, health workers, journalists, and NGOs. This has led to organizations like UJEC (Union des Jeunes Engagés pour Notre Communauté) suspending their services, leaving vulnerable populations without access to essential support and healthcare.Senegal's HIV prevention system, which had been considered one of Africa's most resilient, is now under threat. The country's HIV prevalence among MSM is alarmingly high at 27.6%, and the new law is expected to exacerbate this issue by driving key populations underground and making them more reluctant to seek treatment or testing.The international community has expressed concern, with UNAIDS urging the president not to sign the legislation and highlighting that new HIV infections in Senegal rose by 36% between 2010 and 2024. The situation is further complicated by funding cuts and the US freeze on foreign assistance, which have already weakened the HIV response in the country.As the situation continues to unfold, there are reports of people fleeing Senegal for neighboring countries or seeking asylum in France. The Senegalese Ministry of Justice and supreme court have declined to comment, leaving many to wonder whether the country's HIV prevention system can survive this new legislation and the fear it has instilled.