accountSlide

Search Results:


Keys

Keys - story

Salman Natour

A poet leaves his house in haste, heading toward the harbor. In one hand, he carries a book of poems; in the other, his keys. The man then boards a British ship that takes him…

How I Went to School

How I Went to School - story

Tera Fabiánová

My mother said to me: ‘You must go to school, or they will lock up your father.’ There were five of us children at home, four girls and one boy. The eldest was my sister,…

Seeing Miles

Seeing Miles - story

Steven Schwartz

David stared at Mimi’s picture, taken at his bar mitzvah twenty-five years ago. She was his cousin, a second cousin, and she and her family had come out to Milwaukee from Brooklyn for the occasion….

The Square

The Square - story

Elisa R.V. García

Sunshine crept into the room, forming a white frame around the short dark curtain that barely covered the window. The glow around the darkened window reminded him of Malevich’s black square. He sighed. Vera would…

A Centimetre or Two a Year

A Centimetre or Two a Year - story

Matías Capelli

Six olives contain as many calories as a small steak. Could that be right? She’d read it out of the corner of her eye in a magazine belonging to a woman in a faded ski…

Grandmother and the Ghosts

Grandmother and the Ghosts - story

Andrzej Stasiuk

My grandmother lived in Podlasie. The house wasn’t in the village itself. The neighborhood was known as “the colony”—scattered farms separated by stands of aspen and avenues of age-old, slender poplars. The cottage stood amid…

Flies

Flies - story

Eshkol Nevo

It was the last summer before they gave the Sinai back to Egypt. I was thirteen and I drove with my parents and their friends down to Ras Burka. I think that must have been…

Memories from Haifa

Memories from Haifa - story

Mati Shemoelof

One day, when I was nine or ten years old, my uncle sent me alone from my father’s clothing shop to the post office in downtown Haifa. I’m not sure whether it was my idea…

My Istanbul

My Istanbul - story

Emine Sevgi Özdamar

A Turkish philosopher from Istanbul once visited me in Berlin. He was only there for a few days. He looked at the street and said quietly, ‘I don’t think I could live here.’ Not the…

Second Residence

Second Residence - story

Margarita Leoz

Miriam tells them that he built the house himself with his own hands. She tells them how he piled up the rocks on rainy days, so that they’d get good and soaked before he soldered…