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The Smuggler

The Smuggler - story

Iftach Alony

“The invention of the soul allows us to conceive of the body as a parasite. Hands can be objects that are devoid of feeling during the day but soft and tender at night. These actions…

The Shoe

The Shoe - story

Hisham Naffa

I had headed out to buy a pack of cigarettes and a few tomatoes, and there was a black shoe in the entrance to the building. A black shoe, just one, on the second tile…

Summer

Summer - story

Natalia Ginzburg

I was away from my children for a while. They’d gone to the seaside with my sister and my mother, I stayed in the city, my mother was angry at me because I wrote and…

The Spectator

The Spectator - story

Andrés Caicedo

Ricardo González loved to go to the cinema. His first major cinematic memory, many years ago now, was of a black-and-white film about cops and robbers. Before that he only went to the cinema occasionally,…

River of Honey, Lake of Milk

River of Honey, Lake of Milk - story

Ahmed Omar

Hadiya would visit us with her mother. On sunny days, we did our homework together under the grapevine; in winter, we did it by the stove. Her books were often torn: she didn’t like books…

Yasha’s Eternity

Yasha’s Eternity - story

Anna Starobinets

  Yasha Hein woke up while it was still dark – long before the alarm clock rang – because of a strange quietness that was filling him up from within. During the evening of the…

The Mother of all Defiance – Forth Place

The Mother of all Defiance – Forth Place - story

Mimi Broihier

Mom gave me a block of cheddar cheese and a sleeve of Fig Newtons when I left home for California in August of 1983. Apparently back then, when crossing the country alone in an unreliable…

Birth

Birth - story

Abdel Aziz Baraka Sakin

It was her panting that drew me over. I was exhausted, as the new work regime had been sucking every last drop of life out of us. But my misreading of the situation (what with…

Riding to the Shore

Riding to the Shore - story

Liz Prato

Ginny stood on the counter of the diner decorated in tinfoil. She’s my wife, if you want to call her that, which I do. She’d made bracelets and earrings and a fake-fancy necklace by folding…

Sunflowers

Sunflowers - story

Michal Yaara Carmi

I can’t recall when I first started scribbling those little notes I later stashed in various hiding places around the apartment. It sure as hell could not have been a lot earlier, because at the…