
say desire, say cinder, say Pulau Pinang, my home
Only thought the smell of jasmine tasted like smoke.
I have done it again, crossing / outside the frame into / some brave, new world
Stars, trees, lasers, lights, everything locking into nothing, everything together yet apart.
“Silence” and “Contending with ‘You’ After You Are Gone”
What Totaram Sanadhya’s short story tells us about the space for solidarity
These writers elegize and scrutinize the liminal spaces between taste, smell, and image, between individual truth and collective meaning-making
I needed the concoctions F poured to quiet the things that grated and grew wilder each year—the confusion of being part white in an Arab country, part Arab in an expat world.
I was struck by the world I tasted—woods, Baja California granite, the winter of the grapes’ growth.
Only thought the smell of jasmine tasted like smoke.
“Silence” and “Contending with ‘You’ After You Are Gone”
What Totaram Sanadhya’s short story tells us about the space for solidarity
I have done it again, crossing / outside the frame into / some brave, new world
These writers elegize and scrutinize the liminal spaces between taste, smell, and image, between individual truth and collective meaning-making
I needed the concoctions F poured to quiet the things that grated and grew wilder each year—the confusion of being part white in an Arab country, part Arab in an expat world.
I was struck by the world I tasted—woods, Baja California granite, the winter of the grapes’ growth.
Stars, trees, lasers, lights, everything locking into nothing, everything together yet apart.