my grandmother's youngest brotherlong lay face-down in the haybefore they discoveredhis young corpsewhen the walnuts peered out of their green podshe gathered their wrinkly headscracked them bare then ground themthe sunday gibanica cake smelledof homecomingin the early evening they puta bullet to hi
I first encountered Joanna Bator’s writing when, just before my first trip to Japan, a very good friend gave me a copy of Bator’s The Japanese Fan (Japoński wachlarz, 2004), a non-fiction book on Japanese culture and customs. It served as a brilliant introduction and helped me understand what w
I was a voracious reader when growing up, I always had a book (or several) in my hand, I was reading in any and every situation, sometimes after lights out against my parents’ wishes, by candle- or just by moonlight. I walked around the house (or, once on holiday, as I remember, around a pool) [&h
Please find the latest press release for the EWF2 here.
“The cockpit of an airplane. The pilot begins an announcement. Good afternoon, this is your captain speaking. Pause. Testing… Pause. What I will tell you now will… will be… will be forgotten. No one will remember it. Maybe after some time has passed, when someone brings up this incident, may
