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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.

Opening night of the Pet Shop Boys’ Obscure tour turned the Electric Ballroom in Camden into a shrine for deep‑cut enthusiasts. Frontman Neil Tennant opened with a cheeky promise – “no hits tonight” – and the crowd responded with delighted roars, eager for the rare material the duo had promised.The Obscure moniker is no accident. Tennant and synth‑master Chris Lowe rehearsed 35 songs from their 42‑year catalogue, deliberately sidestepping the familiar chart‑toppers in favour of B‑sides, album tracks and fan‑favourite deep cuts. A fan‑compiled Spotify playlist of 226 non‑single tracks illustrates just how vast the selection pool is, yet even that list fell short of the band’s final set.Two songs made their live debut: a never‑performed track from the unreleased stage show Naked titled “I Dream of a Better Tomorrow,” and the 1986 B‑side “Jack the Lad” from the Suburbia era, which had never before been heard on stage. Phones rose in the audience as Tennant sang the cheeky tale of a ne’er‑do‑well, capturing a moment that will likely become a new fan legend.Highlights included a soulful rendition of the 1990 ballad “To Face the Truth,” where Tennant’s hand‑over‑stomach gesture added a rare glimpse of vulnerability, and the 1987 piano‑driven “Do I Have To?” showcasing Lowe’s most tender synth‑piano work. The set also featured “King of Rome” (2009), its horn‑laden refrain enveloping the room in a warm, nostalgic glow.Interspersed with the music, Tennant acted as an urbane quizmaster, prompting the audience to shout B‑side titles and rewarding them with trivia – for example, a medley that combined 1993’s “One in a Million” with Culture Beat’s “Mr Vain,” performed for the first time since its original 1994 Latin America appearance.Closing the main set, the 2005 anthem “The Performance of My Life” evoked the duo’s early club‑scene roots, while the encore opened with the poignant B‑side “Your Funny Uncle” (1989), a lament that still resonates with listeners who first found solace in its lyrics during the AIDS crisis.In a final, forward‑looking moment, Tennant introduced “I Dream of a Better Tomorrow,” a brand‑new song taken from the unreleased stage production based on *The Emperor’s New Clothes*. He declared, “change is coming… the start of something new,” hinting at fresh creative directions beyond the archival focus of the tour.The Obscure run, part of the broader Dreamworld tour that began in 2022, demonstrates the Pet Shop Boys’ mastery of both pop craftsmanship and archival curation, offering fans a rare chance to hear the hidden gems that have long lived in the shadows of their massive catalogue.

Elvira Notari—Italy’s first and most prolific female filmmaker—crafted a vivid portrait of early‑20th‑century Naples through melodramas such as È piccerella (1922). The film opens with bustling pilgrimage scenes at the Candelora festival, juxtaposing flamboyant revelry with stark images of poverty, a visual strategy that challenged the sanitized narratives favored by the fascist regime.According to film scholar Giuliana Bruno, Notari’s work was driven by a desire to document reality, exposing class tensions and gendered oppression that Mussolini’s censors deemed unacceptable. A 1928 censorship law explicitly banned Neapolitan films featuring “stallholders, beggars, urchins, dirty alleyways,” effectively silencing Notari’s authentic street‑level storytelling.Despite directing around 60 feature films—many hand‑coloured—alongside her husband Nicola at Dora Film, only three titles (A Santanotte, È piccerella, Fantasia ‘e surdato) and fragments survive today, a loss directly attributable to fascist suppression and the prohibitive cost of sound‑film conversion.The newly released documentary Elvira Notari: Beyond Silence, produced by Antonella Di Nocera and directed by Valerio Ciriaci, reconstructs Notari’s fragmented career by collaborating with contemporary “artisans”—photographers, visual artists, novelists, and musicians who reinterpret her silent‑film aesthetics. Ciriaci notes that the absence of personal archives made the film’s investigative approach essential, turning Notari’s silence into a creative catalyst.Critics emphasize Notari’s lasting influence on Italian‑American auteurs such as Francis Ford Coppola and Martin Scorsese. Elements of her chaotic street festivals anticipate the wedding scenes in *The Godfather* and *Goodfellas*, while her raw urban tableaux echo the gritty New York sequences of *Taxi Driver*.Beyond cinematic technique, scholars like Cristina Jandelli argue that Notari’s intertitles reveal a pronounced class consciousness and a critique of women’s marginalisation in early 20th‑century Italy. Her use of Neapolitan dialect and unvarnished depictions of squalor directly opposed the regime’s propaganda‑driven vision of a unified, pristine Italy.After Dora Film collapsed in 1930, Notari retired to Cava de’ Tirreni and died in 1946, largely forgotten until recent scholarly revival. The documentary positions her as a “symbol of the right to memories,” underscoring the ongoing relevance of silenced female voices in cultural history.*Elvira Notari: Beyond Silence* will premiere at New York’s Film Forum on 6 April 2026 and tour the United Kingdom throughout April and May, offering audiences a chance to reconnect with a pioneering filmmaker whose work was once erased by fascism.