RR
ISSUES AND SERIES
SUBMIT
logo
mobile-logo
Home2021February

February 2021

By Qubad Jalil-Zada, translated from the Kurdish Sorani by Halo Fariq and Hannah Fox. 1. The cool breeze of autumn is coming but instead of covering herself, the forest is undressing.   کزەی پایز بەڕێوەیە دارستان لەبری خۆی داپۆشێت، خۆی ڕوت دەکاتەوە.       2. In the city, the wind covers her neck and breasts with the clothes on the line.   لە شار، ڕەشەبا سنگ و مەمکی خۆی بە جلی سەر تەنافەکان دادەپۆشێت.       3. While bathing by the riverbank, the moon hangs her silver lingerie on the branches of the breeze.   لە قەراخ ڕووبارێک خۆی دەشوات. دەرپێ زیوینەکەی بە لقی شنەوە هەڵواسیوە _مانگ

Read More
Poetry, Translations
0 Comments

"Aquamarine" by Matteo Mauro one where the sky is all mine one where baba and i meet in the middle one where corners have bent one where sugarcane fields have lost their green confidence in its truth, almost ugly in broad daylight, worn out, wholesome in memory no space for shoulders- your posture will go bad i think about artists that sing of this city they bring out photographs devoid of color but tell the richest stories will i ever know that richness? i think of attachments i didn't know i had places i carry around my limbs are tree branches that move near the light, the body never forgets i think of this city's streets, the

Read More
Poetry
0 Comments

Photograph by Lujain Jo How can images probe, think through and elaborate on an event at a time when any event is concurrently filmed or photographed and immediately shared online? In the case of the explosion that shook Beirut to its tormented core on August 4 and left it in pieces, how can we use images to go beyond what they show on the surface? How can we delve past their spectacularly traumatic outer layer? Could filmmakers in this scenario play the iconoclastic role of refraining from (re-)producing yet more images?  These were some of the questions left unanswered by Carol Mansour's

Read More
Film Review
0 Comments

الرسم لشادي لويس   في المرة الأولى التي ذهبنا فيها إلى بيت الأخت جنفياف كانت النار هي السبب. الحرائق التي لم تشتعل بعد، بقيت كامنة تحت السطح، نستمع إلى صوت طقطقتها ولا نراها، تتلظّى بهدوء، وفي الانتظار. ليلتها، عدنا أنا وبابا إلى البيت بعد مغامرة الصيد الفاشلة. كان وقت العشاء تقريبًا، والبيت غارق في ظلمة غير معتادة كأنها تخفي شيئًا داخلها. أشعلنا الأضواء، وتوجه بابا إلى المطبخ مباشرة، وهو ينظر حوله بتوجّس، ولم يكن هناك شيء في البيت يستحقّ تلك النظرات. كبَّ معدات الصيد الصغيرة في صفيحة الزبالة، ومعها بعض ممّا تبقّى من اعتزازه بنفسه. لم أكن واثقًا إن كان ينبغي

Read More
arabic, Fiction
0 Comments