The Ballerina

What price art, in a world where it no longer pays?

John Bull

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Fatima turned the key slowly and pushed. The front door opened with barely a click. She smiled to herself. She’d got the whole routine down to an art now:

Wait round the corner until seven forty-five, as that’s when the evening matches kicked off, then open the door quietly. The first and fifth floorboards in the hallway were…

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John Bull

Writer. Narrative designer. Historian. I focus on tales of ordinary people who did extraordinary things, and helping companies tell their own stories better.