Photograph: Scanpix/Denmark (Source: © Robert Capa/Magnum). In 1937, at the age of 29, Martha Gellhorn left for Madrid with a knapsack of clothes, a contract with Collier’s magazine to write about the Spanish Civil War and little else. She had $50 in her pocket and no bank account. This was to be her break free. Born in St. Louis, Gellhorn had graduated from the all-women’s Bryn Mawr College in a tony Philadelphia suburb, placed a few articles in The New Republic and signed on as a crime reporter at the Albany Times Union in upstate New York. She’d been raised in a particularly progressive manner—her father, a gynecologist, seeing that her biology class textbooks in high school blurred out the anatomically explicit parts, petitioned her school to have them made more accurate; her mother, This story is from Kinfolk Issue Thirty Buy Now Related Stories Arts & Culture Issue 19 Going Incognito We all secretly wonder what mischief we’d make if invisible: When our identity is hidden, everything seems possible. Arts & Culture Issue 19 The Best Policy Sometimes we talk to each other without feeling heard. Honesty—a most intimate interaction—can be just as thrilling as its more devious inverse. Arts & Culture Issue 19 A Sense of Suspense With unhinged imaginations and mountains of cliff-hangers, the filmmakers behind the sci-fi podcast Limetown have all the makings of a scary story. Arts & Culture Issue 19 Like Clockwork In this new column about time, we learn how slipping off our watches makes us feel like deadline-damning renegades. Arts & Culture Music Issue 19 On a Grander Scale Malaysian singer-songwriter Yuna now may live on the opposite side of the globe, but she’s determined to evolve while staying true to her roots. Arts & Culture Issue 19 Neighborhood: Fire Stations The firefighting profession has evolved over time from Ancient Rome’s rudimentary bucket brigades to today’s sleek life-saving departments.