" I thought about my dad and if he would offer me a drink if I told him I was saving people"

"And suddenly, I am no longer afraid of losing."

"While he regaled me with stories I’d soon forget,

Half slurred and half drenched by the stench

Of the many liquors there mixed on his tongue,

Only the word YOUTH slipping in from between."

I can never tell the difference.

God or Girl,

all I am is alien and all you are is beautiful.

There are no waves at this time of day; there is only him.

The sun shines on Diderot’s ruin, but it is not enough to warm

the air.

I can still recall the taste of all

those defeats, as bitter as unripe plums.

8:12pm FRANK: Do you have in mind when you would like to try and run away?

AYAH: when the weather’s warmer

FRANK: And what will you do when it gets cold?

“no season is perennial”

“if we were to sleep in Liberty again

I will offer you an unripe plum from our decomposing tree of childhood...”

Editor Naimah offers some sonic guidance

Summer funs from our hearts to yours

Dispatches from the desk of the wigged-out Mr. Poppy Livingstone

Editor Naimah offers some refreshing summer tunes

What we like this week

EIC Poppy weighs in on Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s quietly powerful eco-thriller

Dispatches from the desk of Ms. Fatima Swaray

On Heritage, Cultural Ecology, and Art.

Mixed Media Artworks by painter Gabriella Mazza