Raised in an Arabian land of heat, fire and temper,
sometimes the calm of England clamps down
like damp in a bathroom with no window
and a loud, inefficient extractor fan.
The setting is ordinary.
I sit on a bench in a small town square,
looking at a cobblestone floor,
pretending to hear whispered romantic
secret stories in the rain — soft.
The stones sigh an outlandish tale of unrequited love.
I see a young couple squishing themselves together
in front of a music-shop window. The guy rubs
his hands along her bum, loving it.
There is such comfort in roundness.
The shop's display of old music sheets
and DVD screens remains static.
The ground reverberates with the struggles and throes of age.
An old woman pulls her shopping trolley up small steps
with the effort of a Greek hero slaying demons.
And I am lost somewhere
in between
the couple and the woman.
Neither young nor old.
But I have been and I will be.
archive - issue 14
- Default
- Title
- Date
- Random
-
-
These diptychs are the start of a series of images I have been working on regarding the visual landscape we choose to surround ourselves…Read More
-
I returned home after my first year in college to discover my younger sister had turned gorgeous. This was a disappointment, but not an…Read More
-
This series is inspired by the childhood game of "snapdragon", which allows for simplistic and delightful decision-making through random selections of colour and number.…Read More
-
Below is an extract from a series of 11 poems created in parallel with visual artworks. 5. Memories laced with visceral realityFlooding herThe gentle…Read More
-
You think you're a forward-thinking kinda person, do you? Lemme be the one to break it to you, sunshine – you're as lame as the…Read More
-
Human/Nature
ByThis series explores moments between nature and human beings that are at once idealistic and unsettling. Each picture is an independent narrative, but placed…Read More -
Immigrants
Byyou want to livenothing else.you leaveto liveyou swimor like fresh sardinesyou are packedin boatsyou leaveto live. you leavegold in the belly of Africaoil in…Read More -
In Between
ByRaised in an Arabian land of heat, fire and temper,sometimes the calm of England clamps downlike damp in a bathroom with no windowand a…Read More -
Dear Sir/Madam I should like strenuously to object to the subject matter ("/") of your current issue. It must first be mentioned, however, that it…Read More
-
Pencil and nothing. Her face turned almost entirely away. Forehead, cheekbone,jaw,the bun low in her neck,shoulderand down,the long linejust enoughthen left alone.Read More
-
Einstein works with a diverse range of media, including drawings and installation with fire, thread, and blades. The series of drawings and installations with…Read More
-
With the premise that "/ " presents what is IN and what is OUT, the "Pretty Babies" series explores the fashion industry's well-published and syndicated DOs…Read More
-
River Bank
ByThe symbol / is intended initially as a symbol of division. A real or unreal line divides the girl from the water, the girl from…Read More -
Text by João Branco Kyron, HipnóticaThe collision is imminent and in the fraction of time left, the eyes shut and the vision is superbly…Read More
-
A battle over samoosas between the snobbish Cinderella and a homeless electrician is mediated by Cinderella's boyfriend JJ. The samoosa battle is conflated with…Read More
-
Wayne Porter, freelance journalist, donned his anthropologist's birthday suit and hit the bowling alley. Bar the bowlers hat tipped gently off centre, the man…Read More
-
"Please, for me, Dave," I placed my hand on his, and really, no begging, just asked him nicely, "Lay off the booze tonight." Whether…Read More
-
He had been driving for hours through that unstable, somnambulist night when he fell asleep at the wheel. He awoke with a start and…Read More
-
It's a handy little line, the one that we use to make our options known. Either/Or. Paper and ink or binary code? Its clichéd,…Read More
-
Sun.star.kid: Written these words are, at times of a subconscious flow – whether they are mine, I don't know. All I know is that I…Read More
-
My life is now a floating shellI am a vessel on that river.The storm, the ship, the sea,Whose shores we lost in crossing. I…Read More
Sunday, 25 May 2008 02:00