Issues

Carpool

In Issue 01: In Transit

Zainab Mahdi

The streets were eternal back thenback when back seat was a canopy of armsstretched out like the solsticethe thump of tire on chewed cementjolting the deviance from feeble bodiesMomma was no pilot, bu... Read more

Time Machine

In Issue 01: In Transit

Nur Al-Mouna

A time travel machine. It might sound futuristic, something science fiction writers spend pages and pages imagining. In fact, I have seen one. I will try to describe it for you, in case you have seen ... Read more

Culture

In Issue 01: In Transit

Samantha Estoesta Williams

The first time I saw Apo Tudo, The Ilocano rain deity, I swear, he sent mist to that mountain Outside of Baguio Kissing the Filipino soil with sweet promises and tearful memories My grandmother share... Read more

Doorway Effect / Dadar Station

In Issue 01: In Transit

Nitica Sakharwade

Indira Gandhi Airport (New Delhi), 19th Oct 2016 The seat belt sign is lit. I stare at the screen, struggling to choose a movie. Baba must be reaching home joining Aai for a cup of chai. ... Read more

Grieving a Stranger

In Issue 01: In Transit

Meseret Abebe

My parents came to Canada as refugees in the late ’80s for better opportunities and to escape Ethiopia’s hellish dictatorship. Though I cannot know the extent of their struggles, I can speak of th... Read more

Remind Them

In Issue 01: In Transit

Shama Saleh

Colour: forever reside in my blood will keep me on holy ground colour that lived war inside of her. War: the goodbye kisses, tangible on cheek three years on nothing left to go back too. Hom... Read more

Time Moves Both Ways

In Issue 01: In Transit

Ellie Anglin

Last summer, my wife and I rode our bikes together along the Cambridge to Paris rail trail—an eighteen kilometer venture alongside an out-of-use train track. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no fitness q... Read more

Two Poems

In Issue 2: Space(s)

Nitica Sakharwade

Listen to Nitica read her poems: Textile · Nitica Sakharwade - Aaji / between my fascia hides griefAaji / between my fascia hides grief I get homesick for places I’ve never been. Space between gran... Read more