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

“Long has the female presence been holistically controlled by the hands of men; from the Christian Bible’s depiction of Eve as the first sinner, to the creation of the contemporary patriarchy as most know today, men have labeled themselves the dominant sex at the expense of women.“

An etching by Brianna Howard

Doubt takes hold of my memories like a layer of oil.

You give the spring new colors, and we slow dance down by the creek.