RR

July 2020

Photography by Nour Annan The first time I broke a bone, I was twenty-five years old. I fractured my right hand while exercising. The base of my pinky was cracked open and required immobilization. Otherwise, as my doctor cold-heartedly put it, "I'd have to perform a surgery where I break it further to have it heal in the right position.” This injury reshaped my relationship with the hands of those around me and changed the way I perceive my own. It made me realize the strength my hands had built up over the years, despite all odds. I remember sitting anxiously in

Read More

"Exit of Farhad and Shirin" by Babak Kazemi كاڨوه أكبر، ترجمت من الانكليزية بقلم سلفي الحلو ريحانة جباري هي فتاة إيرانية كانت في السادسة والعشرين من عمرها عندما تمّ شنقها في ٢٥ من تشرين الأول،٢٠١٤ بسبب قتلها لرجلٍ كان يحاول اغتصابها.  الجسد مسجد مُستعار من الجنّة      قرون الزَّمَنِ تُلطِّخُ الطُّوب المزجّج       وجِلدُنا يحتكُّ كشَظيّة وسطَ ساعة رمليّة    أحيانًا أشعرُ بالعار  من إحساسي كم هو عديم الأهميّة      الملائكة لا يهمُّها الحياء أنت حلقتِ رأسك     قضيتِ أحد عشر يومًا جائعةً في الانفراديّة وما من مَلاكٍ بكى في نشيد      وها الوِحدةُ تعُمُّ المكان لقد غدوتُ وعاء ذكرياتٍ أكثر من إنسان   

Read More

"Migration" by Marianne Shaker Translated from Chinese by Jeffrey Thomas Leong Leaving behind wife and child,           I’ve experienced heavy seas. Don’t know how much wind and frost I’ve endured. Because my family was poor, I sought the precious           white jade. Separated from relatives and friends,           I drifted about, 10,000 li. It’s difficult to calculate suffering in one slice           of rain and snow, All due to a purse empty of weighty green coin.   難 萬 別      不 重 拋 計 里 親      知 洋 妻 都 捱 飄 朋 袛 受 歷 子 緣 一 流  ,為 幾 盡  , 囊 切  ,     家 多  , 澀 雨        

Read More

"Dead Sea" by Paris Petridis Summer, and corpses covered in barnacles become buoyant, bloated bodies are hauled onto land,autopsies are performed bare on the beach. We wade and gather sea glass and bits of bone,sand-rubbed, sun-hardened, listen to the conches confess what became of them. No one swims anymore, not even in the shallows. Rods reel in life-vests and lone limbs, severed feet wash onto shore, some still sporting shoes. Comb jellies gather and glow, it stings when we wet our lips, suck at the salt beneath our fingernails. We breathe in the brine, watch the waves

Read More