As we follow characters on their journeys of self-discovery through the jungle of Thailand, as a child in the British countryside, or as an aging doctor on the island of Cyprus, Absence evocatively builds a compassionate symphony of nostalgia, attuned to the drama of everyday and the phantoms that linger with us. Issa Quincy has constructed a transcendent portrait of humanity, deftly illuminating those memories that forever bind us to one another.

As we follow characters on their journeys of self-discovery through the jungle of Thailand, as a child in the British countryside, or as an aging doctor on the island of Cyprus, Absence evocatively builds a compassionate symphony of nostalgia, attuned to the drama of everyday and the phantoms that linger with us. Issa Quincy has constructed a transcendent portrait of humanity, deftly illuminating those memories that forever bind us to one another.

With remarkable dexterity and an acerbic wit, Katharina Volckmer skewers the corporate workplace and watercooler relationships, culminating in an insightful and powerfully moving portrait of loneliness and human connection.

Jimmie works in a London call center, fielding complaints from dissatisfied travelers. Concerns range from whether compulsive itching will attract sharks in Mykonos, to the queue at the infinity pools in Maldives, to stray hairs on pillows: “the utterings of people at odds with their own hedonism, holidays made unenjoyable by their own expectations.” Today is different, Jimmie’s co-worker Elin warns him. Jimmie is on the chopping block, and his boss, Simon, has followed him into the bathroom during an unauthorized break to request an “urgent” meeting.

Mr. Montessori and his family return home from a trip to the beach to discover that their sofa is different. Once dark and contemporary, it’s now antique, green and yellow, and smelling faintly of damp.

Mr. Montessori and his family return home from a trip to the beach to discover that their sofa is different. Once dark and contemporary, it’s now antique, green and yellow, and smelling faintly of damp.

Its appearance and origins are a mystery. A joke? An inverted theft? A break in the fabric of reality? Yes, the police take the “crime” seriously. But what happens next lies outside their expertise. Strange sounds in the night. A half-bathroom toilet with a mind of its own. Odd, fleeting glimpses of something (or someone) in mirrors. The inexplicable vision of Montessori’s neighbor: He swears he saw a burglar. . . .