I carry Tarkovsky's ear in my pocket, still listening to the rain of Stalker, while the rest of his body evaporates in memory like a priest who lost his faith but not his habit. I carry Wong Kar-wai's eyelids in my chest, always late,...

Friday 28th November 4pm. Nightfall.On a blood-chilling, late November evening in Sheftel. Stella Marsh didn’t feel the cold, which was probably just as well. She closed her eyes and felt the warm sensation, the tingle inside her fingers and...

As the heat of the rain pierces the thirstybosom of the earth harassed by the great heat of summer, And as arid and suffocated, it drinks, and nourishes the plantsBurned by the sun, displays vitality, childbirth, gladness,Your image, fountain...

The things that my Father saidI will watch over youAnd please do me a favorAnd go to bed each night atThe same timeBecause you have to keep upWith your sleep routine