Dawn | Fall 2023

the undergraduate multilingual magazine at Yale DAWN FALL 2023

Editors-in-Chief

AudreyZhong KirinMueller

JimmyLe

Head Copy Editors

LeslieGuerra

YuleZhang Publications Coordinators

EllieSurman

SophiaMcManus

ChristinaLee Events Coordinators

PeiqiChen

LavanyaSingh

Korean Dr.AngelaLee-Smith

JungbinCha

EmilyKhym

CoreyDunn

Russian

EliasSilver

Spanish

SamRodriguez

NicoleViloria

LeslieGuerra

SophiaBrentlinger

Turkish

AliOtuzoglu

Mandarin Chinese

EliasSilver

EvanSun

Lithuanian

AlexandriaScagnelli

Arabic

MustafaZewar

English

SarahBentkhayet

KellyTran

YuleZhang

JeaHan

MarieBong

LeslieGuerra

5

7

C O N T E N T S

9 NuncaTeOdié

11

13

SPANISH

Hello Reader,

Dawnpromisesanewday,wheredarkness surrenderstolight,unveilingendlesspossibilities. Fromthegentleunfurlingofdaylighttothe breakingofbarriersandthebirthofnew perspectives,dawnencompassestheessenceof transition,metamorphosis,andtransformation. Weareheretosharevariousinterpretationsof dawn,suchasmemoriesfromdaybreak, how dawnhasilluminatedourlives,andthetruthsthat havedawnedonus.

Thankyoutoourcommunityof writers,editors, andreadersforcontinuingtosupportAccent MultilingualMagazine.

Sincerely,

AudreyZhong,KirinMueller,&JimmyLe AccentMagazineEditors-in-Chief 2023-2024

АЯВсёЖдуТвоюЗарю AmeliaStefanovics

Пришлазаря, приветствуетнасснова Деревья,рекииполя, Звоннескончаемогозова.

Пришлазаря, светосеннихлучей

пронзаетлужицужелании, яркийблескмутныхфонарей.

Пришлазаря, всёбылотаккрасиво, твоисловакакякоря Вмоейдушевесяттоскливо.

Пришлазаря, Имыздесьсами этилистьяОктября, падаютвотмеждунами.

Пришлазаря, Солнцекакиззефира Кусокбольшогоянтаря.

Апочемуещеборя, Тынехочешьнаконец-томира?

YetIAmStillWaiting ForYourDawn

AmeliaStefanovics

TheDawnhasCome, Itgreetsusonceagain Thetrees,rivers,andfields, Andthenever-endingcall.

TheDawnhasCome lightofautumnrays piercingthepuddleofmywishes, Andthebrightshineofdimlanterns.

TheDawnhasCome everythingwassobeautiful Butyourwordsarelikeanchors thatweighdownmysoul.

TheDawnhasCome Andweareherealone theseOctoberleaves, Fallbetweenus.

TheDawnhasCome

Thesunislikeamarshmallow Apieceoflargeamber.

Andwhynowdoyoustillfight? Doyounoteverwantpeace?

NuncateOdié

Nicole Viloria

Siempreodiéquefuerascelosa, quemeasfixiaras,quemehumillaras.

Siempreodiéquemehicierasdudarsiyo estabamal,siteibaalastimar.

Siemprecritiquéquetepusierasasí,queno medejarasvivir.

Peroahoraodioqueteentiendo,queme quemaelhechodequeestésconella, dequepuedaverlayquenoseablasfemia.

Quenoesigual,quedeellanosreíamosy ahoracomosinada,dicesquelaamas,note entiendonada.

Tantoodionoquitamidolor,misrezosde olvido,lomuchoquetequieroaquí conmigo.

Tantoodiometransportaaunparaísodonde ellanuncaexistió,dondenonosperdimos.

Cuandoterecuerdo,memuero.

Cuandotepiensoeste14defebrero, medueleelpechoporloquefue,porloque pudohabersidoysedeshizo.

Mearrepientodenohabercorrido, tragadolascortadas,larabia,elego.

INever HatedYou

Nicole Viloria

always hated how jealous you were.

Your suffocation, humiliations. I always hated that you made me doubt if I was wrong, if I was gonna hurt you. I always resented you for this, for not letting me breathe.

But now I hate that I get you, that it burns you’re with her, that I could see her and that it’s not blasphemy.

That it’s not the same, of her we made fun of and now it’s like that didn’t happen at all, you say you love her, I don’t understand.

So much hate doesn’t take away my pain, my prayers, my longing to have you here with me.

So much hate takes me to a paradise where she never existed, where we didn’t lose us.

When I remember you, I die. When I think of you this February 14th, my chest hurts for what it was, for what could have been and fell apart.

I regret not running, not swallowing the cuts, the anger, the ego.

새로운 날 AnyaBibbs

한국에서, 지난 여름

나는 시간을 만났다.

낭비된 시간, 잃은 시간

마음이 아팠어

할 게 많았는데

한국말 잘 못해서

어디 가야 할지를 몰랐다

거기 사람들의 제일 좋은 추천 들으러

냉면이나 이마트 과자 먹으러

가장 큰 다이소 찾으러

시간을 좋아하게 될 수 있다고

생각했다.

하지만 시간이 싫었다.

육 주 동안 어떻게 할까.

한국말 배워서 식당과 지하철역과 교회와 카페에서 영어로 말하는 거

사람이 되려고 언어 배우는 거

나는, 집에서의 새벽보다 먼저 오는 새벽이 있는

그런 세상에 존재하는 사람이다.

시간이 나와 집 사이에 불편하게 있었다.

한 번

아니야, 여러 번

좁은 침대에 눕고

집에 돌아가고 싶었다

근데 마지막 날에

미국에 가는 길 공항버스에서

하늘이 밝아진 것을 봤다.

일출이었다.

집에 돌아가고 싶은 줄 알았다

그 때까지 몰랐다.

시간이 친절했는지

새로운 친구들

새로운 맛있는 음식

새로운 기억에 남을 장소

새로운 날

15시간 후에 집에 있을 것이다.

내가 울었다.

이 일출을 보니

나와 같았다.

Thissummer,inKorea, Imettime.

Timewasted,timelost

Ithurtme

Therewassomuchtodo. Icouldn’tspeakKoreanwell AndIdidn’tknowwheretogo

Toasklocalsfortheirbestrecommendations

FornaengmyeonorEmartsnacks

OrtofindthebiggestDaiso Icanlearntolovetime

Ithought

ButIhatedtime

WhatwouldIdoforsixweeks?

LearnKoreanonlytospeakinEnglishatrestaurantsandtrainstationsandchurchesandcafes

Learnthislanguagetobeaperson

Apersonexistinginaworld

Withadawnthatcomesbeforethedawnathome.

Timeuncomfortablystoodbetweenmyselfandhome.

Onetime

No,alotoftimes, Ilaidinmynarrowbed Andwantedtogohome.

Butthen,onmylastday

OntheairportbusonthewaytotheUS Iwatchedtheskygetbrighter, Thesunrise. IthoughtIwantedtogohome. UntilthenIdidn’tknow timewaskindtome.

Newfriends

Newfavoritefoods

Newplacesthatwillstayinmymemory.

Newdays. 15hourslater,Iwouldbeathome. Icried. Iwatchedthesunrise Anditwaslikeme.

ELFENÓMENO

DiegoDelAguila

Sihayalgúnperiododemividaquenomepuedopermitirolvidar,esdefinitivamentemiprimer añoenMantenor.Enaquelentoncesyoeratansolounniñodeveintidósaños,conexcesodesueños, perotambiénexcesodeinocencia.Eraunrománticoqueriendotenerelmundoamismanos,yla únicaformadelograrloeradejarSanDanielyamamáatrás.

PorMantenorpasabatodoaquelaspiranteintelectual,oambiciosoenlascienciaspolíticasy sociales.MientrasSanDanielmeinvadíaennostalgias,Mantenorprometíaunnuevoinicio,mi aperturaalmundoyaunfuturoantesinimaginable.

Cuandollegué,meinstaléenunpequeñoapartamentoenlaCalleCanariayanticipéuna energíararaenlaciudad.Penséqueprontoestaríaacostumbradoaestenuevolugar,yesome fascinaba.

Elniveldediscusiónintelectualenclaseerasorprendente.Viajábamosrápidapero sofisticadamentedelBudismoaDerrida,demitologíaIncaicaaDescartes,BeowulfaAdorno,y trasladábamosestosmaticesalanálisisdelrumbomásrecientedelahistoria.Disfrutabamucho aprenderdeunniveldediscusiónypensamientoalquejamáshabíasidoexpuesto.

Fueradeclaselascosascambiaban;mefaltabacostumbreparatratarcongentelejosdeSan Daniel,ymeencontrabacohibidolasvecesqueaceptabasaliraunbaroalgunareunión.Descubríque Mantenorera,enrealidad,unlugarmuyaislante,yconeltiempometerminérefugiandoenelalcohol yeltabaco.OcasionalmentepasabaelratoconRamiro,untipodemiclaseconquiencompartíala frustraciónpornuestrasinalcanzablesexpectativas.

Unatardedespuésdeclasesemeacercóunhombrebajitodepelolargoybarbafrondosa.Dijo quesellamabaNoélyqueapreciabamisparticipacionesenclase.Meinvitóaasistiralareuniónde unaorganizaciónquellamó“ElFenómeno”.

—Dequéva,exactamente?

—SomoslosúnicosenMantenorquesetomanelprogramaenserio. Inspiradoporlasoledad,decidíasistiresanoche.Ramironoquisovenir.Tuvequepasarportres puertasantesdeentraraunahabitaciónamplia.Ellugarestabaenelinteriordeunbaralotroladode laciudad.Habléconotrosestudiantesdemiclasequeyateníantiempoasistiendo,yconotrosa quienesjamáshabíavisto.Sehablabadelasúltimascontroversiasencienciapolítica,yserespirabaun interésgenuinopordescubrirlaprocedenciadelagente.Loquemásllamómiatenciónfueuntéal quellamaban“Fenó”.Lamayoríadeasistenteslobebíanentreoracionesmagníficamenteformuladas. —No,jamásheprobadoAyahuasca—lecontestéauno.

—ElFenóescomoelalcohol.Esunbuenrato.

Regresévariasvecesaeselugar,siemprehaciendopreguntassobreelFenóycuestionandopor quénohabíaescuchadodeélantes.Losasistentessiempreselotomabanalaligera,yrechazabantoda asociacióndelFenóconcualquierdrogarecreativa.

—Esparareforzartuscapacidadesintelectuales.Míralocomounatazadecafé.

Pocodespués,enunanochedeOctubre,finalmenteloprobé.EraunanochefríayElFenómeno habíatenidobuenaasistencia.Cuandodíelprimersorbo,sentado,escuchabaapenasunaconversación sobrelascríticasalhistoricismo.Otrosorbo,lareevaluacióndelosvaloresoccidentales.Unsorbo grande,lametaéticadelartecomoprofesión.Mesorprendíconlasuavidaddelrespaldodelsillón.

Prontolassillasdellocalcomenzaronamultiplicarsesutilmente;yoapenaspodíanotarlamitosis. Lasparedesteníanunatexturagelatinosa,ylosrostrosdelrestodeasistentesparecíandestellary desvanecerseenunasimetríaespiral.Elpisocomenzabaaasemejarseaunocéano,ymicuerpoeraun botequeapenaspodíasostenerse.Desdemuyatrás,entrelassombrasdelcuarto,comencéasentirla presenciadeunanimalextraño,acasounosooextraterrestre.Lospatronesmusicalesdejarondeser melodiososycomenzaronaauspiciarungruñidoespeluznante.Micuerpoestabainmóvilyno respondíaamisintenciones.

Ellugarahoraestabavacío,yyanoerauncuarto,sinounocéanonegro.Unaluztintineabaalo lejos,dondeantessospechabalapresenciadelabestia,yaumentabaenintensidadconcadapestañeo. Mesentídesnudoanteelmundo,perdidoenunespiraldelocura,ytansolodeseéestarenlaCalle Canariaviendopelículas.Laimagendemamápasópormimente,eintentéllorarsinresultado.Laluz iluminabaviolentamentecasitodoel océano,rozandoelbordedeloinvisibleytintineandoensincroníaconlosgruñidosdelabestia. Debajodelaguavipatronesinfinitosdetodaslasformas,materialesycolores.Todoslosrostrosconlos quealgunavezmecrucépararonfrenteamí.Inmóvil,merendíantelaposibilidaddelamuerte.Y entoncesmamáhabló:

—Novasamorir—erasuvoz,emergiendotenueperopoderosaentreeloscurocaosquemeatacaba. Recordélasnochesenlasquedormíaconmigoparacuidarmedelaoscuridad. Yonopodíahablar.Algoenesteocéanomeloimpedía,ahorcandomiscuerdasvocales.

—Esteeseldíamásimportantedetuvida.

Sentíaelrespirodelabestiasobremisoídos,yelgruñidoinvadíatodoelocéano.

—Nadadeloquejamáshasvistosecomparaaloqueestásporver. Supeentoncesquenoeramimadrequienhablaba.Penséqueeratalvezeldiablo,oquetalvezera Dios.

—Novasamorirhoy.Hoycomienzasavivir.

Yentoncesviloinolvidable.Viporunosminutosunarealidadmásalládenuestrotiempoy espacio,unarealidadinexplicable.Todosesintiótanreal.Todalahistorianocontada,lademostración delasficcionesdenuestrouniverso.Vilacreacióndelosocéanos,laevolucióndelossereshumanos,el desarrollodellenguaje.TodocreadoesemismodíadeOctubrequetoméeltéenElFenómeno.Todo creadoesamismamañana.Todoserhumanoestácuidadosamenteconfiguradoparacreerencategorías mentalescomoeltiempoyespacio,yenconstructoscomolahistoria,lacienciaylafilosofía.

¿Quéerareal?Loúnicoquesesentíaverdaderamenterealeraesemomento,eseenfrentamiento contraelinfinitoyelverdaderoorigendelascosas.

—Noatodosselespermiteverestarealidad.

Fuiabsorbidoporlanadacomosisetratasedeuntobogándeviento,yviajéportodalahistoriadela humanidadencuestióndesegundos:migraciones,catástrofes,ciudades.Caíderegresoalabanca

dondetodoempezó,enElFenómeno,peroyanohabíanadieenelcuarto.Mesentíprofundamente soloypudesentircómocadaextremodelcuartoydelascallesyciudadesquelorodeabansecreaban enesemismoinstante.

DespertéunatardedeNoviembresinrecuerdodeloqueaconteciódespués.Habíanpasadotres semanas,peroeltranscurrirdeltiempopocoimportaba.

Afuerallovíaylascallescarecíandevida.Tuvelaimpresióndequeestabaenunsueñoyqueen cualquiermomentovolveríaaestarsobreunocéanoenplenaoscuridad.Unafamiliapasóbajomi ventanayyomeasombréconloabsurdodesusrostros.PenséqueMamá,Papáymihermana realmentenoexistíanyquenoteníaaquiénllamar.Recordémioctavocumpleañosymillegadaa Mantenor,ysupequetansóloeranmanifestacionesdeesaoscuridadinfinita,deesegruñidodela bestiaqueahoracomenzabaasincronizarseconelsonidodelalluvia.

Mealejédelaventanaycomencéallorar.Unaansiedadincorruptiblepenetrabalasparedesdemi alma.Pocodespuésmeperdíenelcansancioyrecuerdodormir.

LosiguientequerecuerdoesescucharaNoéldecirme,talvezsemanasdespués,queloquehabía vistonopodíaserreal,quedebíahabersidounsueñoounepisodiopsicótico.ElFenóescomounté, decíasoberbio.EsanochelogolpeéytuvieronqueescoltarmefueradeElFenómeno.Otranoche, Ramiroofrecióllevarmealpsiquiatraylepedíqueselargue.Pasédíasfaltandoaclaseyviendoel atardecerdesdemiventana.Todosesentíaficticio,perfectamenteartificialacadasegundo.Noleveía elsentidoallorar,yavecessemedificultabaencontrarleelmotivoacomer.Todosloseventosdel mundonosóloestabansucediendoalmismotiempo,sinoquenuncahabíansucedido.

Cuandoencontréelvalorparadecirleamamáloocurridonopudocomprenderme.Pensóque bromeaba,quemehabíanlavadoelcerebroenMantenoroquehabíadesarrolladounaadicciónalos alucinógenos.Mepidióqueregreseacasa,peroyonoqueríamovermedemihabitación.Terminéla llamadasinpoderdistinguirsuvoz,confundiéndolaconlosgruñidosdelaoscuridad.

Duranteesosmeses,olvidabaconstantementeperiodoslargosdetiempo.Misambicioneshabían sidocompletamenterelegadasporunrobustosinsentido.Cadanochequerecuerdo,antesdedormir, pensabaflotandoenmediodelanada,viendolaconstruccióndelaspirámidesencuestiónde segundos,observandotodasmishistoriasdeamoryamistadpasardepolvoamateriaenunparpadeo. Elactodeiradormireraunaficción,igualquelaideadeunhogar.Jamáspodríasentirme encasaenestemundo,quenoeramásqueunaperturbadorafantasía. Ramirointentóvisitarmeunpardeveces,peroyonuncaabrílapuerta.Cadasonrisa queobservabadesdemiventanamemareaba,ycadaatardecermeacercabacadavezmásal vacío.Laoscuridadinfinitacomenzabaaparecermecómoda,ylosgruñidosdelabestiacada vezmássoportables.Micuerpopedíavolverasiquieraolerunpocode“Fenó”. LanochemásoscuralavivíenunbarcercaalaCalleCanaria.Loúnicoquerecuerdo enaquellugareslacaradeltipoquemeestabamoliendoagolpes.Medejótiradoenelsuelo enlapartetraseradellugar,yentoncessupequemidestinoestabaenlaoscuridad.Contodas misfuerzasintentédesplazarmehaciacasa,perocuandocruzabaelpuenteprincipaldela

yahabíaperdidotodoaliento.Juntoalbarandal,encaréalanadaconunllantoirremediable.Veíaal puenteconstruirseydeconstruirseencuestióndesegundos,aligualqueloscuerposdecada transeúnte.

Entonces,comenzóallover.Mesentésobreelasfaltoacontemplarlasficcionesdelmundo:el falsocielo,elfalsoríoymifalsocuerpo.

Sentídeprontounapresenciacerca,peroestaveznomeaterroricé.Estabalistoparavolverme unoconlanada,parapermanecereternamenteenladinámicaomnitemporaldeluniverso,bajola tuteladeesabestiaconlaqueacasocomenzabaaempatizar.Supequeprontoescucharíaunavoz. —Hermano,novalelapena.Novalelapena,deverdad—oíamisespaldas.Nopodíasernieldiabloni Dios;eraunavozprofundamentehumana,lavozdeunhombreprofundamentehonesto.Giréde inmediatoymeencontréconunasiluetaentrelassombras.

—Noséquiéneres,hermano,peronovalelapena—reiteró,yentoncescomprendíqueaquelhombre sospechabalopeor.

—Noesloquepiensa—apenaspudemascullarmientrasregresabamimiradaalengañodelasaguas.

—Tienesquevivir.Créemequetodovaaestarbien.

—Yoyamoríhacemeses—lerespondí.Mislágrimassemezclabanconlalluvia.

—Yotambiénpenséquehabíamuerto.

Elhombrecaminóhacialaluz.Ambosnosmiramosduranteunoslargossegundos,mientraslas pirámidesseconstruíanymilesdeguerrasiniciabanyterminaban.Entoncessupequeéllocomprendía todo.Susojoseranlosdealguiencuyavidahabíasidosuccionadadetodasustancia,alguienquehabía confrontadolasficcionesdeltiempoyespacio.

—Hermano,estásacá.Yoteveoacá—eranlosojosdealguienquehabíavencidoalabestia.

Despuésdeunrato,elhombredesapareciócomoenunsueño,peroyalohabíadichotodo.Volví afijarmeenlasficcionesdelmundo,peroahorateníaunaespadaparaenfrentarlas:¿cómoesqueun encuentrotanrealpodíahaberocurridoenunarealidadtanficticia?Deregresoacasa,porprimeravez sentíquepodíasilenciarlosgruñidosdelabestia.Sentíquelamirabaalacarayqueporfintenía fuerzasparacombatir.Aunqueprobablementenovolveríaaveraesehombrenunca,supequeno estabasolo.

Losdíasquesiguieroneseencuentrosoninolvidables.Mantenorteníaotrocolorylasficcionesse mehicieronporprimeravezinteresantes.Volvíalloraralgunosdías,perocadalágrimaahoraeraun gritoderevolución,unaluzenelinfinitoocéanodelaoscuridad.

Supequeteníaquelucharporvivir,sinimportarcómo,cuándoyporquéestabavivo.Aúnestaba acá.Eraunmisterioelporquécadanochemillonesdepersonasseibanadormir,elporquése levantabancadamañana,elporquétodalahistoriadelahumanidadsevolvíaacrearacadasegundo. Peroesemisterioquedabarelegadoahora,porlaposibilidaddetenerunavidaenrebelión.Llaméa mamáyaRamiroesanoche.Supequequeríavivirporexperiencias,poramistades,portristezasy alegrías.Yaúnpodía,todoesoaúnerareal.Todoaúnexistíaacadasegundo.Lovienlosojosde todoslosciudadanosdeMartenor.Lovienelespejoyenmisfotosdeniño.

NosésimamáoRamirorealmentecomprendieronloquepasó,tampocosésiyoloscomprendía aellos.PeromiréaRamiroalosojosysupequehabíaalgomásalládeloquepudiésemosentender.

Memiréenelespejoyvielocéanooscuroasfixiándoseconelreflejodemidecisiónporseguirvivo.

Vilosgirasolescreciendo,elotoñoasomándosecadaaño,ungritogenuinoderevolución,un abrazodeunamadreaunhijo,dosalmasenamoradasdecidiendopasarlanochejuntos,dosamigos caminandoabrazados.EsanochecompréunboletoaLima.

Corríhaciaelaeropuerto.MepreguntésialguienenLimahabíatenidoalgunavezla oportunidaddeteneralgunaexperienciaasí.Estuveseguroquesí.Quetalvezguardabanelrecuerdo enlassombras,quetalvezlosacabanapaseardevezencuando,quetalvezsentíanelpoderensu capacidaddeesconderlo,quequizáabrazabanlavidacomonuncanadie,quequizáeranesasalmasque siempremesonreíanamíyalavida.Penséquequizáeramivecino,oelguardiaquesiempreme saludabaalentraraledificio.PenséenaquelniñoconelquejugabacuandovivíenCuscoporun tiempo.Recordéquealgunavezmehablódealienígenasqueprogramabancadarincóndenuestras almas.

Miréalaventanaantesdedespegar:secomenzabaasospecharelamanecer.Sentíquemirabaala bestiaalosojos,quelaencarabaconunasonrisa.

Nuncahabíavistounamanecertanmágico.Mesentíconectadoconcadapartículaviva.No podíaesperarpararegresaraSanDanielynadarenelmar.

ELFENÓMENO

IfthereisanyperiodofmylifethatIcannotaffordtoforget,itismyfirstyearatMantenor. Backthen,Iwasjustatwenty-two-year-oldwithanabundanceofdreams,butalsoanexcessof innocence.Iwasaromantic,yearningtograsptheworldwithinmyhands,andtheonlywayto achievethiswastoleaveSanDanielandmymotherbehind.

Everyaspiringintellectualwithambitionsinpoliticalandsocialsciencespassedthrough Mantenor.WhileSanDanielfilledmewithnostalgia,Mantenorpromisedafreshstart,anopeningto apreviouslyunimaginablefuture.

Uponmyarrival,IsettledinasmallapartmentonCalleCanaria.Onmyfirstnight,Isenseda peculiarenergyinthecity.IthoughtIwouldsoonacclimatizetothisnewplace,andthatintrigued me.

Thedepthofintellectualdiscourseintheclassroomwasastounding.Wewouldjourneyswiftly butprofoundlyfromBuddhismtoDerrida,IncamythologytoDescartes,BeowulftoAdorno,andwe wouldmaneuverthesenuancestoanalysethemostrecentcourseofhistory.Irelishedlearningfrom thislevelofdiscussionandthinking,whichwaspreviouslyunimaginabletome.

Outsideofclass,thingsweredifferent;Iwasn'taccustomedtointeractingwithpeoplebeyond SanDaniel,andIoftenfeltself-consciouswhenIagreedtogotoabaroragathering.Ifound Mantenortobearatherisolatingplace,andovertime,Isoughtrefugeinalcoholandtobacco. Occasionally,IwouldspendtimewithRamiro,afellowstudentwithwhomIsharedthefrustrationof ourseeminglyunattainableaspirations.

Oneafternoonafterclass,ashortmanwithlonghairandabushybeardapproachedme.He introducedhimselfasNoélandexpressedhisappreciationformyparticipationinclass.Heinvitedme toattendameetingofanorganizationhereferredtoas"ElFenómeno."

"Whatisitabout,exactly?"Iinquired.

"WearetheonlyonesatMantenorwhotaketheprogramseriously,"hereplied.

Drivenbymysenseofisolation,Idecidedtoattendthatnight,eventhoughRamirodeclinedto joinme.Ihadtopassthroughthreedoorsbeforeenteringaspaciousroom.Thevenuewaslocated insideabarontheothersideoftown.Iconversedwithclassmateswhohadbeenattendingfora while,aswellaswithpeopleIhadneverseenbefore.Icouldoverheardiscussionsaboutthelatest controversiesinpoliticalscienceandnoticedthatmostattendeesheldagenuinecuriosityabout everyoneelse'sbackground.Whatintriguedmethemostwasateatheycalled"Fenó,”whichmost attendeessippedbetweenbeautifullyarticulatedsentences.

"No,I'venevertriedAyahuasca,"Iresponded.

"The'Fenó'islikealcohol.You’llhaveagoodtime,"oneofthemreplied.

Ireturnedtothatplaceseveraltimes,alwaysinquiringabout"Fenó"andwhyIhadn'theardofit before.Theattendeesconsistentlydownplayedit,separating"Fenó"fromanyrecreationaldrug. "It'smeanttoenhanceyourintellectualabilities.Thinkofitlikeacupofcoffee,"someoneexplained.

Shortlyafter,onacoldOctobernight,Ifinallydecidedtotryit.TheeventatElFenómenowas well-attended.AsItookmyfirstsipwhileseated,Iwasvaguelyawareofaconversationabout criticismofhistoricism.Withanothersip,wediscussedthereevaluationofWesternvalues.Alarger gulpledusintotherealmofmetaethicsinartasaprofession.Ireclinedinmychair,surprisedbyits plushness.

Gradually,thechairsintheestablishmentseemedtomultiplysubtly,asifundergoingmitosis. Thewallsassumedagelatinoustexture,andthefacesofthosearoundmeflickeredandfadedinaspiral symmetry.Thefloorbegantoresembleanocean,andmybodyfeltlikeafragileboatthatcouldbarely stayupright.Somewhereintheshadowsatthebackoftheroom,Isensedthepresenceofastrange creature,perhapsabearoranextraterrestrialbeing.Thepreviouslymelodiousmusicpatternsmorphed intoaneeriegrowl.Mybodyremainedmotionless,unresponsivetomyintentions.

Theroomappearedtobeempty,anditwasnolongeraroombutavast,inkyocean.Adistant lightflickeredwhereIhadearliersuspectedthecreature'spresence,growingmoreintensewitheach blink.Ifeltexposedtotheworld,lostinaspiralingmadness,yearningtobebackonCalleCanaria watchingmovies.Imagesofmymomflashedthroughmymind,andIattemptedtocrybutreceived noresponse.Thelightviolentlyilluminatednearlytheentireocean,reachingtheedgeoftheinvisible, twinklinginharmonywiththecreature'sgrowls,whichrefusedtoreleaseitsgriponme.Beneaththe water'ssurface,Ibeheldendlesspatternsofallshapes,materials,andcolors.EveryfaceIhadever encounteredpassedbeforeme.Helplessandmotionless,Isurrenderedtothepossibilityofdeath.And then,mymom'svoiceechoed:

'You'renotgoingtodie,'camehervoice,faintbutpotentamidstthedarkchaosthatengulfed me.Irecalledthenightswhenshe'dsleepnexttome,protectingmefromtheshadows.

Icouldn'tspeak;somethingwithinthisoceanstifledme,aforceconstrictingmyvocalcords.

'Thisisthemostpivotaldayofyourlife.'

Isensedthecreature'sbreathagainstmyear,anditsgrowlsreverberatedthroughtheentire expanse.

'Nothingyou'veeverwitnessedcomparestowhatyou'reabouttosee.'

ItwasthenIunderstoodthatitwasn'tmymotherspeaking.Ithoughtperhapsitwasthedevilor maybeevenGod.

'Youwon'tdietoday.Today,youbegintolive.'

Andthen,Ibeheldtheunforgettable.Forafewbriefminutes,Iglimpsedarealitybeyondour timeandspace,aninexplicableexistence.Itallfeltsovivid.Theuntoldhistory,therevelationofthe fabricationsofouruniverse.Iwitnessedthebirthofoceans,theevolutionofhumanbeings,the developmentoflanguage.AllofitwascreatedonthesameOctoberdayIhadthatteaatEl Fenómeno.Everyfacetfashionedonthatverymorning,everyhumanmeticulouslyprogrammedto embracementalconstructsliketimeandspace,aswellasconstructslikehistory,science,and philosophy.

Whatwasgenuine?Theonlythingthatfeltundeniablyrealwasthatmoment,thatencounter withinfinityandtheauthenticoriginofeverything. 'Noteveryoneisgrantedtheprivilegeofglimpsingthisreality.'

Iwaspulledintothevoidlikeagustofwind,traversingtheentiretyofhumanhistoryinmere seconds.Ireturnedtothebenchwhereitallbegan,atElFenómeno,yettheroomwasnowempty. Profoundsolitudeengulfedme,andIsensedthateachcorneroftheroom,alongwiththestreetsand citiesthatsurroundedit,hadjustbeencreatedinthatveryinstant.

***

IwokeuponeNovemberafternoonwithnorecollectionoftheeventsafterthatnight.Three weekshadpassed,butthepassingoftimeheldlittlesignificance. Rainpouredoutside,andthestreetsappeareddevoidoflife.ItfeltasthoughIweretrappedina dream,andIhalf-expectedtobebackonthatdarkoceanatanymoment.Afamilystrolledbeneath mywindow,andImarveledattheabsurdityoftheirfaces.IbegantodoubtwhetherMom,Dad,and mysistertrulyexisted,leavingmewithnoonetocallmyown.Memoriesofmyeighthbirthdayand myarrivalatMantenorfloodedmymind,andIunderstoodthemasmeremanifestationsofthat infinitedarkness,intertwinedwiththegrowlsofthebeast,whichnowseemedtosynchronizewith thesoundoftherain.

Iturnedawayfromthewindowandbegantocry.Anindomitableanxietypermeatedthewallsof mysoul.Beforelong,Iwasovertakenbyexhaustionanddriftedintosleep.

ThenextmemoryIhaveisNoéltellingme,perhapsweekslater,thatwhatIhadwitnessed couldn'tbereal,attributingittoeitheradreamorapsychoticepisode.Thatnight,Istruckhim, leadingtomyevictionfromElFenómeno.Onanotheroccasion,Ramiroofferedtotakemetoa psychiatrist,butIshunnedhisassistance.Ispentdaysskippingclassesandwatchingthesunsetfrom mywindow.Everythingfeltfictional,asifmeticulouslycraftedeverymoment.Isawnoreasontocry andoftenstruggledtofindamotivetoeat.Notonlywaseveryeventinhistoryhappening simultaneously,buttheyhadneverhappenedbefore.

WhenImusteredthecouragetotellmymotheraboutwhathadoccurred,shefailedto comprehend.SheassumedIwasjesting,attributingmyconditiontobrainwashingatMantenororan addictiontohallucinogens.Sheimploredmetoreturn,butIcouldn'tbeartoleavemyroom.I terminatedthecall,unabletodistinguishhervoicefromthegrowlsofthedarkness.

Throughoutthosemonths,Ifrequentlyexperiencedlapsesinmemory.Myaspirationshadbeen overshadowedbyabsurdity.Everynight,asIpreparedtosleep,Irecollectedfloatinginavoid, observingtheconstructionofpyramidsinmeremoments,witnessingallmytalesofloveand friendshiptransitionfromdusttosubstanceintheblinkofaneye.Theveryactoffallingasleepfelt likefiction,asdidtheconceptofhome.Icouldneverfeelathomeinthisworld,whichamountedto nothingmorethanadisquietingfantasy.

Ramiroattemptedtovisitmeacoupleoftimes,butIneveropenedthedoor.EverysmileIobserved frommywindowmademedizzy,andeverysunsetbroughtmecloserandclosertoavoidIhadnever imagined.Theinfinitedarknessbegantofeelcomforting,andthebeast'sgrowlsbecamemore tolerable.Mybodyyearnedforevenaslightwhiffof"Fenó"oncemore.

Peledos Nuomone

KamileMakselyte

YratokiavienaLietuviupatarlė–“rytasprotingesnisuzvakara.”Peledziukebudama,asjosnelabai supratau.Givisirytemiega,kaipjisgalibūtiprotingesnis?Galvodavau.Sedejau,sukdavaugalva valanduvalandas,ikikolkantrybesnelikdavopasmaneTaipartaipmaneskaitydavopeleda,one vytureliu.Manbuvonetskaudugalvotikadrytasprotingesnisuzmanomielavakareli.Kodeljietaip nusprende?Betkazkaipuzsimirsausau,nustojaujaudintisapierytoarbavakaroprotolygius.Jiesu manimneturėjoniekobendro,sakydavau.

Taipasirsaupeledziaudavau.Naktimisnemiegojau,klaidžiojauposavusmiskelius.Gaudydavausavas pelytesirspresdavaukitaspelediskasproblemas.Sededavausauantbelenkokiossakosirstebedavau. Raminaktis.Geranaktis.Niekadosmannepasirodėkadkonorstruksta.Skraidydavautarpseseliu.As tiktaispazinautamsumiskaKairenskristicia,desinenciaVienjausmaisvaldydavausiirkitaip nereikejo.Vakarasganaprotingas.

Kartamantekovytispauksteli.Nediduka,sakyčiaukadpersparnoplunksnadydzio.Nebuvoman reikalojitaipvytis,betkazkaipjismaneanttieksuerzinokadnesusilaikiau.Skridaupromiskelivisa nakti.Kairen,desinen.Desinen,kairen.Niekaipmantaspaukstelistarpnaguciuneatsirado.Pasidaviau, nutupiauantsakeles.Atrodeveloka.Visatamsianaktipaskraidziaupaskuitapaukstuka.Atsidusauir tyliaitekopasėdėti.Iskazkurpradejosklisticyptelejimas.Negarsus,beveiknegirdimas.Dairausi aplinkui,iskurgalėjotasgarsasatsirasti?

Potruputi,garsejojis.Joaidaspovisagiriaissimeteirpradejosauatsiliepineti.Siandasidejogarsas,ten keliosnatos.Asatsiradausimfonijosvidury,tarpmiskomuzikantu.Otenais,kazkuruzmiskosiena, pradejosvieseti.Kažkurtentolipradėjosaulekilti.Jibraukespinduleliusprodebesis,irisdazejuos rausvomspalvom.Vytureliaitoliaudainavosavochore,dadedinejantysmelodijaikojųmanymutruko. Asjaunapeledasautupejauanttosšakelėsirstebejauveiksma.Gyvenimenegalvojaukadrytasgalibūti toksgyvas.Ausrapridejorankapriezemesirjipradėjodainuoti.Asvalanduvalandasbuvaupraleidus tojtamsiojegirioje,tikedamatiktaistakaaspatijauseniaibuvauįsitikinusi.Pasirodokadrytaspats parodogyvatiesa.Tebereikiapaklausyti,pastebėtiapiekajissneka. Vistieknetikiukadrytasprotingesnisuzvakara.Askaippeledanegaliutaipripažinti.Betassuprantu kodelvyturiaimyliausra.Assuprantudelkojiedainuojajaipriekoju,kodėljiegyvenadėljos.Rytas galirneprotingesnisuzvakara,tikraine.BetnesunkumatytikodelVyturiaitaipsakytu.Nesunku pasimėgautijudaina

An Owl’s Opinion

KamileMakselyte

ThereisaLithuanianproverb-"Themorningissmarterthantheevening."Ididn'treally understanditwhenIwasachick.Everyonesleepsinthemorning.Howcanitbesmarter?Ithought. Isatthere,puzzlingitforhoursuntilIranoutofpatience.Onewayoranother,Iwasoneofthose nightowls,notamorninglark.Ithurtmetothinkthatthemorningwassmarterthanmydearest night.Whydidtheydecidethat?ButsomehowIforgotit,andstoppedworryingaboutmorningor eveningintelligence.Ithadnothingtodowithme,Iusedtosay. AndsoIlivedmyOwlishlife.Ididn'tsleepatnight,insteadwanderingaroundmylittlewoods.I usedtocatchmymiceandsolveotherowlishproblems.Iusedtositonabaretreeandjustwatch. Calmnight.Goodnight.Itneverappearedtomethatsomethingwasmissing.Iflewamongstmy shadows.Ionlyknewthedarkforest.Lefttoflyhere,righthere.Iwasgovernedbymyfeelings aloneandtherewasnoneedforanythingelse.Theeveningisquitesmart.

OnceIhadtochaseabirdNotbig IwouldsayaboutthesizeofafeatherinmywingTherewas noneedformetochaseherlikethat,butsomehowsheannoyedmesomuchthatIcouldn'thelp myself.Iflewthroughtheforestallnight.Left,right.Right,left.Everytime,thebirdmanagedto escapemytalons.Igaveupandperchedonabranch.Itseemedlate.Iflewafterthatbirdallthrough thedarknight.Isighedandsatquietly.Achirpingsoundstartedcomingfromsomewhere.Notloud, almostinaudible.Ilookedaround,wherecouldthatsoundcomefrom?

Afterawhile,itgrewlouder.Thesound’sechoscatteredthroughtheforestandbegantorespondto itselfTherewasasoundhere,afewnotesthereIappearedtobeinthemiddleofasymphony,inthe middleoftheforest’smusicians.Andsomewherebehindtheforestwall,theskystartedtolighten. Somewherefaraway,thesunbegantorise.Shesweptherraysthroughtheclouds,andpaintedthem inpinkcolors.TheLarkscontinuedtosingintheirchorus,addingtothemelodywhattheythought wasmissing.Asayoungowl,Iperchedmyselfonthatbranchandwatched.Ineverthoughtinmy lifethatthemorningcouldbesolively.Dawnputherhandtothegroundandbegantosing.Ispent hoursandhoursinthatdarkforest,believingonlywhatImyselfhadbeenconvincedofforalong timeItturnsoutthatthemorningitselfshowsthelivingtruthYouonlyneedtolisten,noticewhat heistalkingabout.

Istilldon'tbelievethatthemorningissmarterthantheevening.I,asanowl,cannotadmitit.ButI understandwhytheLarkslovetheDawn.Iunderstandwhytheysingatherfeet,whytheylivefor her.Themorningmaynotbesmarterthantheevening,certainlynot.Butit'snothardtoseewhy theLarkswouldsaythat.It’snotdifficulttoenjoytheirsong.

AnhNguyen

겨우 깨지기 시작하는 새벽의 색. 그리고 막 풀리기 시작한 창의력을 어떻게 더 끌 어낼 수 있을지 곰곰이 생각하는 동안 마음속에 소용돌이치는 배경색. 내가 서울에 있는 동안, 나 자신 외에는 다른 누구에게도 책임을 지지 않고, 많은 미술관과 전시회 들을 뛰어다니는 내 자신을 발견했다. 혼자 미술에 대해 곰곰이 생각해 보는 순간마다, 내가 생각 했던 것보다 훨씬 더 미술이 나에게 더 가까이 있다는 생각이 들기 시작했다. 나는 미술가가 되고 싶었는데… 내가 그냥 해봤더라면 아마 그렇게 될 수도 있었을 것이다. 예전에 나는 미술이라는 것이 특정한 스타일과 문화를 이해하고, 그것을 자기만의 독특한 방식으로 표현하는 사람들을 위 한 것이라고 생각하곤 했다 (말하자면, 길을 걷는 동안 해드폰을 끼고 그들만의 확실한 스타일적 감각이 있는데..), 이들은 주류는 아니지만, 그들만의 세계를 공유하고 이해하는 사람들에게는 익 숙한 모습이었다. 나 역시, 미술 이란, 캠퍼스를 가로질러 어디든 앉아 눈앞에 있는 것을 쉽게 스 케치하고, 진정으로 예술적임을 선언하기 위해 미적인 인스타그램 스토리를 업로드 할 수 있는, 그런 사람들만을 위한 것이라고 생각하곤 했다. 내가 못되게 구는 게 아니다. 솔직히, 나는 캠퍼스에서 보는 그런 사람들이 부럽다. 그사람들처럼 되고 싶다. 나는 사람들이 멀리서 나를 얼핏 보고도 그날 결정한 옷차림만으로도 나라는 것을 알아줬으면 좋 겠다. 내가 페이지에 선을 그리고고 잉크를 칠하는 방식만으로도 사람들이 나라는 것을 알아봤으면 좋겠 다. 하지만 시간이 더 지나, 나는갤러리를 더 많이 다니고 친구들과 대화한 후에야 이런 걸 깨달았다: 다 른 사람들이 나를 이미 내 방식으로 인정할 수 있게 되었고, 단순히 충분히 마음만 먹으면 미술을 창조하 는 것이 가능하다는 것을. 나는 창의적인 것들을 좋아하고, 그런 분위기나 환경에 있는 것 또한 즐긴다. 이를 테면, 마르셀 브로이 어 의자에 대해 아이러니하게 생각하고, 이케아 매장 중간에 멈춰서서 새로운 의자 디자인에 대해 지적 하는 것을 좋아한다. 내가 의자를 직접 만들고 싶을까? 나는 식기류에 대해 생각하는 걸 좋아한다. 그것 이 나의 가장 친한 친구가 만들고자 하는 저녁 식사의 미각적 경험에 어떤 색과 질감이 영향을 미칠지에 대해 생각하는 것을 좋아한다. 만약 내가 도자기를 배워 그 친구가 요리를 담기 위한접시를 만든다면 어 떨까? 나는 사람들이 전시회나 영화 수업에서 보여주는 영상을 보는 것도 좋아한다. 내가 만나고 싶은 사람들과 공간을 어떻게 기록할 수 있을까? 이렇게 떠오르는 많은 예술적인 질문들은 내가 어떤 미술가 가 되고 싶은지 생각하게 만든다. 그리고 경험해 보고 싶은 다양한 매체에 관해서 나는 아직 겉으로 보기 만 할 뿐이다. 이게 바로 팬톤 19-4020TCX 짙은 사파이어가 나에게 의미하는 바이다. 이는 미술가가 되는 것에 대한 무섭고흥미진진 한 여정의 어두운 구덩이 같지만, 내가 그 안으로 뛰어들고 싶은 곳이기도 하다. 미술가로서 내가 누구인지를 발견하는 것은 지구상의 다른 어떤 일들보다도 훨씬 더 많은 시간과 에너지가 필요하겠지. 하지만 나는, 새벽이 밝아오듯, 새로운 날이 나에게 무엇을 가져다 줄지 기대가 된다.

Pantone 19-4020 TCX Dark Sapphire

AnhNguyen

Thecolorofdawnasitbarelybeginstobreak...butalsothebackgroundcolorto thethoughtsthatswirlinmymindwhileIruminateonhowtofurtherbringout thecreativitythatI’veonlyjustbeguntounlock.

WhileIwasinSeoul,withnoobligationtoanythingoranyonebutmyself,Ifound myselfhoppingbetweenmanyartgalleriesandexhibits.ItwasinthesehoursthatI spentalonecontemplatingartthatIbegantoformmyownthoughtsonartand howitwasmuchclosertomethanIoncethought.Iwantedtobecomeanartist, andifIonlytried,perhapsIcouldbecomeone.Iusedtothinkthatartwasreserved forthepeoplewiththeirheadphonesonwhiletheywalkeddownthestreet,withan assuredsenseofstylethatveersawayfromthemainstreambutisfamiliarfor“the oneswhogetit.”Ialsousedtothinkthatartwasreservedfortheoneswhocould perchanywhereacrosscampus,effortlesslysketchwhatwasinfrontofthem,and thenuploadanaestheticInstagramstorytodeclarethattheyareindeedartsy.

Tobeclear,I’mnotattackinganyonehere.I’mactuallyquitejealousofthesepeoplethatIsee oncampus.Iwanttobelikethem.Iwantpeopletoseemefromamileawayandknowthatit’s mebythewayI’vedecidedtodressthatday.Iwantpeopletoknowit’smefromthewayI’ve drawnmylinesandinkedmypages.It’stakentime,moregalleryhopping,andconversations withfriendsformetorealize,though,thatI’vealreadybecomerecognizableinmyownway, andthatcreatingartcanbeaccessibleifI’mdeterminedenoughtosimplystart.

Ilovebeingcreative,orevenbeingadjacenttocreativity.Iloveunironicallyfangirlingabout MarcelBreuerchairsandabruptlystoppinginthemiddleofanIkeatopointoutanewchair design.WouldIwanttomakemyownchair?Ilovethinkingaboutdishwareandhowthe colorsandtextureswillaffectthegastronomicalexperiencemybestfriendhopestocraftinhis dinners.WhatifIlearnedceramicstocraftdishwareforhiscooking?Ilovewatchingthevideos thatpeopleshowintheirartexhibitsorevenjusttheirfilmclass.HowdoIdocumentthepeople andspacesIwanttoengagewith?Theartfulquestionsthatcometomindandpromptmeto thinkaboutwhatkindofartistIwanttobeareplentiful,andI’monlytouchingthesurface whenitcomestothemediumsIwanttogetmyhandson. ThisiswhatPantone19-4020TCXDarkSapphireistome.It’sascaryyetexcitingdarkpitof potential,butoneIwanttojumpinto.BreakingdawnonwhoIamasanartistwilltakemuch moretimeandarguablymoreenergythanittakesfortheskytofillitselfwiththecolorsof dawn,butI’mexcitedtoseewhatdaybringsforme.

Gökaşçı’nın İlk

Gökaşçı’nınilkgünübugün. Zamanınvarolmasınıbeklemişbuncazaman, göğühazırlayıpdünyasakinlerinesunmayı. Elindetarifi,önündemalzemeleri,hazırvenazır.

Güneşiortasınayerleştirmiştepsisinin, kenarlarınısüslemişturuncuotlarla, biranneningüzeldokunuşununherparçasınıkatmış. Yıllarınıharcamış sabahfikrinin,başlangıçların kalbininasılkütkütattırdığınıyansıtmaya.

Biryenidoğanınilkgülüşünü, tazeaçançiçeğinbüyüsünü, ateşininsıcağınıntütsüsünü, vedehayatısaklamış turuncuylalacivertinarasındakiincecikçizgiye.

Karıştırmışdakarıştırmış, çokuğraşmış,gününmavisini kulakmemesikıvamınagetirenekadar. Üstünepamukşekerdenbulutlarfırlatmış, pişerkenerimesinlerdiyeumaraktan.

Şekillereşemailiniveripyerleştirmişsemavifırınına. Beyaztüylerlesüslüaçıkmavininhuzurunubulmuş.

Göğebakanherkes, herseferinde, herbirinde, herşeyi görüversindiyedeğişimegebe rüzgarıbırakıvermişnazikellerle.

Geceyisamimiyetiçintasarlamış, maskeleriardındabırakmış seçtiğiderinkoyuluğun.

Geceyitevazuiçintasarlamış, görkemliateşiöneçıkaranarkaplanıolarak.

Dünya’yısoğukbırakmış,fırınıkapatmış

kiinsanlarbirbirlerindearasınlargündüzünısısını.

Geceyikaderiçintasarlamış, yıldızoluvermişserpiştirdiğituztanecikleri, takımlarkurmuşlar,eleleverip geleceğisığdırmışlarküçücükışıklarınarasına.

BirbakmışkibitmişGökaşçı’nınilkgünü.

Gecedensonranegelirmişki?

Birboşlukhissikaplamış,düşergibisanki.

Farketmişkiönündeşafakvakti, Fırınıyenidenyakması, malzemelerihazırlaması, yorgunkoluylaçırpması, beribaştanbaşlamasımecburi.

Şafakkorkunçmuş.

halsizlikvurmuş, yeniatlattığıbaşlangıcı pabucununucundabulmuş.

Dünyaptığımoncaşey,diyebozulmuş, hepsimibeyhudeolurumuş?

Yapmasıgerekenibiliyormuş, başlamışşafağıyokluktanoymaya. Bitkilerinyeşili, rüzgarlarınesişi, insanlığınşiiri

belkidedeğermişkurduğusofraya.

Skychef’s First

TodayisSkyshef’sfirstday. They’vebeenwaitingfortimetoexist,timemeantfor preparationofthesky,andpresentationtotheresidentsoftheEarth. Therecipeonhand,materialsoutfront,they’remorereadythanever.

TheyplacedtheSuninthecenterofthetray, garnishingthesideswithorangeherbs, addingthesofttouchofamother.

Theyspentyearstryingtocapture theideaofamorning,howbeginnings maketheirheartskipabeat. Theyhidlifeitself,and thefirstsmileofanewborn, theglamorofabloomingflower, thefumefromthewarmthofafire, insidethethinnestlinebetweenorangeandindigo.

Theystirredandstirred, workedforhours, tomaketheblueofthedayasthickasanearlobe. Theythrewcottoncandycloudsontop, hopingtheywouldn’tmeltwhilebaking. Theysculptedandplacedthemintheircelestialfurnace, wherebyfindingpeaceinlightblueitself,ornamentedwithwhitefeathers. Theyplacedthewind,pregnantwithchangesothat everyonewouldsee everything,in everyone everytimetheylookatthesky.

Theycreatedthenightforsincerity, leftthemasksbehind thedeepdarknesstheychose.

Theycreatedthenightformodesty, asabackdropthatforegroundedagloriousfire.

Theyleftitcold,turnedoffthefurnace, sothatpeoplecouldfindthewarmthofthedaywithineachother. Theycreatedthenightfordestiny.

Thescatteredsaltmoldedintostars, teameduptoconstellations,holdinghandsto fitthefutureinsidethetiniestlights.

Beforetheyknewit,Skychef’sfirstdaywasover.

Whatwouldevencomeafterthenight?

Emptinesswrappedaroundthem,asiftheywerefalling. Theyrealizedthatwhat’saheadisdawn, andallofthethingsthathadtogetdone. Warmingtheoven, preparingthemixtures, whiskingwiththeirtiredarm.

Dawnwasscary, andtheyfeltweary.

Thebeginningtheyjustwentthrough wasfoundonthetipoftheirshoe.

EverythingIdidyesterday,theysulked, woulditallbeinvain?

Theyknewwhattheyhadtodo, startingtowhittlethedawnoutofnothing. Thegreenoftheplants, theflowofenergy, andhumanity’spoetry wasworthlettingthetablebe.

Metas y Morbos

Diego Faria

"Pensarenelmundo:transformarlo" algunavezleíbuscandosignificados, atandocabosdeloquecansados llamamosperdidosinpoderrecuperarlo.

¿Peroquéfue? ¿Quésefue?

¿Enquésetransformó?

¿Quémurióyquénació?

Difícilmentefuenuestrometamorfoamor, quemásquemetafuemorbo ysinadornobailóconMorfeo,así trazandonuestroamoroníricomanchadodecalor.

"Québonitoeselamoryquéprontosegasta" algunavezescuchémientrasimaginaba sialamaraquiennodebíbajaríadecasta, sinsaberquedelamía,yanadiebajaba

Ybajandoenespiralesdeilusiones vilaverdaddenuestrascanciones: Elamoryeldolorsonsimbiontes, comocarasdemonedasconvalores

Así,viendoambascarassinvalores, encontréelpuenteentredoscoincidencias delidiomadelasmujeresyloshombres

Quécoincidenciataninsípida; queamorydolorsolocompartenunarimamalherida... quizásparadarlailusión queambaspalabrasnosonunrostroviéndoseennuestro espejo.

Quétriste...Quéabsolutamentetristequeaúnasí, amoresydoloressiemprerimen, compartiendounaclaraintimidadporlapluralidad comosivivieransoloalsercompartidosconlosdemás. Casicomoqueriendoinvitarnosaolvidar...queenlasolituddelosingular elamoryeldolorsonmetamorfos quedanzanentrenosotros.

Metas and Morbidities

Diego Faria

“Thinkoftheworld:transformit” Ioncereadseekingmeanings, tyinglooseendsofwhattired wecalledlostwithoutpossibilityofrecoveringit. Butwhatwasit?

Whatleft?

Intowhatdidittransform?

Whatdiedandwhatwasborn?

Hardlyitwasourmetamorphouslove, amorbiditymorethanagoal, andwithoutadornmentdancedwithMorpheus,that way tracingourdreamlikelovestainedwithheat.

“Howbeautifulloveisandhowsoonitisspent”

IonceheardwhileIimagined whetherbylovingsomeoneIshouldn’tI’dgo downincaste, withoutknowingthatfrommine,noonefalls

Andwhilefallinginspiralsofillusions Isawthetruthofoursongs: loveandpainaresymbionts, likefacesofcoinswithvalues

Thatway,seeingbothfaceswithoutvalue, Ifoundthebridgebetweentwocoincidences inthelanguageofwomenandmen

Whataninsipidcoincidence; thatloveandpainonlyshareawoundedrhyme… maybetogivetheillusion thatbotharen’tafacestaringintoourmirror.

Howsaddening…Howabsolutelysaddeningthateventhen, lovesandpainsalwaysrhyme, sharingaclearintimacyforplurality asiftheyliveonlybybeingsharedwithothers.

Almostasifinvitingustoforget…thatinthesolitudeofsingularity, loveandpainaremetamorphs thatdanceamongus. 30

前段时间，我的⽼伴去世了。

她下葬之后，⼥⼉执意要我离开庐⼭⼩镇⾥的家和那⾥的书和树，称是 不想要我“死了半个⽉也没⼈知道” 。我拗不过她，便拖着⾃⼰年⽼的

把⻣头和⼏本书，昏昏沉沉地坐了⼏个⼩时⽕⻋跟她来到她所在的城 市。下了⽕⻋，在出租⻋上坐在她⾝边，我竟然感到 丝久违的希望。

或许这个当年⾃⼰急于逃离的世界可以接受如今年⽼的、有⼥⼉的陪伴 的我了吧。我如是想着，转头看窗外陌⽣的接连的⾼楼。

到她家的第 顿晚饭，⼥⼉努⼒地做了 些花样，煲了些汤，甚⾄做了 我喜欢吃的⾹椿炒蛋。她难得地笑着端着菜出来，⽽我看着她从厨房的 雾⽓⾥⾛出来，忐忑的⼼也在那热⽓⾥捂热了许多。

我笑着坐在⼥⼉对⾯，称赞道：“闻起来好⾹。 ” ⼥⼉也笑了笑，眼神柔和了⼏分，应道：“嗯，多吃点吧，你和妈呆在⼭ ⾥也不是天天能吃到的。 ”

随后两⼈便沉默了。 开始是正常的，合理范围内的。但当两⼈之间的 沉默拉⻓，扯断，便开始显得有些尴尬了。我低下头开始认真扒饭，不 敢看她了，她则开始抖腿。其实我吃着饭根本尝不到⾹椿的味道，只是 逐渐在拉⻓的沉默感到焦虑。刚刚还在空⽓⾥的温度湿答答地扒在我的 ⽪肤上，⻛⼀吹，有些发冷。是我低着头，对⾯坐的⼈突然感觉离我很 远。

不过 会⼉，她急匆匆地起⾝，虽然在假期却含糊地说着还有表格没 填；我也抓住机会表达理解，她便对我关上了⻔。我继续在已经冷掉的 蒸汽⾥坐着吃完饭。

于是第⼆次晚餐，我在夸赞了饭菜之后试探性地问道：“你最近怎么样 呀。 ”

“还⾏， ” ⼥⼉道。沉默⼜开始拉⻓后，她忙加了⼏句， “就是⼯作有些 忙，但是你别操⼼，你就好好在这⼉养⽼就⾏了。 ”

我点点头，硬是从她的话⾥品出 些温情，继续问道， “哦，那你⼯作怎 么样呀。 ”

“啊， ”她的语⽓变得“⼯作”起来， “不过是天天收集表格，做分析，做汇 报罢了。 ”

我⼜点点头，她欲⾔⼜⽌，但笑了笑摇了 下头。我好不容易翻出很久 以前问⼩学的她在学校和朋友玩得怎么样⼀样的能⼒接上， “那你和同事 关系怎么样呢？” “我的同事嘛， ”她扒了扒饭，似乎⼜有点想笑， “有跟我⼀个⼩组的王 婷，陈⽣儒，余⼼仪，他们⼯作都还不错吧，合作很愉快。 ”

她似乎也知道⾃⼰回答的荒谬，耸耸肩仿佛⼜在安慰我 样地搜肠刮肚地拖出 些话， “其 实我这个⼯作也不太需要和他们打交道，我们就每周 起汇个总做个报告。所以同事关系 算还⾏吧…王婷前段时间结婚还邀请我们去她的婚礼了呢。 ” “哦哦这样。那还挺好的呢。 ” 可是我对报菜名般的⼈名⼜记不住，明明想问的⼜不是关于王谁谁的婚礼，明明想问的 是， “所以…你过的开⼼吗。 ” 她看着饭碗，⼜情不⾃禁地开始抖腿， “嗯，还⾏吧。⼯作的项⽬最近是有些进展了，睡得 也没之前那么晚了，估计…还⾏吧。 ” 我扯了扯嘴⻆笑了笑， “听上去确实还⾏呢， ” ⼼头却越问越空落落的。真是糟糕呢，⽐昨天还糟糕，我甚⾄觉得我在⼭⾥思念她的时候 ⽐现在试图记住她说的名字时还近。 她也挑了挑菜，复制粘贴般地问道， “那你呢，你最近怎么样。 ”

“我最近， ”许多话到了嘴边，看到她的时候我却什么都说不出来，只能⽣硬地点头 道， “嗯，还好吧。 ”

于是我们两⼈⼜ 起沉默地逃离了餐桌，她⼜幸运地有表格需要处理，我也⼜幸运地躲进 我狭⼩的房间。

第三天晚餐，我⼜⼤概知道了王婷、什么⼼仪、什么领导的⼯作习性；第四天晚餐，我知 道了她最近的项⽬组在和什么集团做个什么分析；第五天晚餐，我知道她的电脑电池不太 好，⽽且要买点冬天的⾐服了；第六天晚上……我都 记下来，说服⾃⼰负责得像个像 样的⽗亲。然⽽⽇复 ⽇逐渐学会拉⻓的⽆意义的噪⾳也难以掩盖我愈发疲惫的内⼼。我 放不下这现实⾥的⼈，⽆法⽆视两⼈⼼之间确⼜紧紧地缠绕着脐带般的情感，因⽽只能继 续拉扯着。

⼥⼉带我从⽕⻋站回家的路上曾说过，这个城市有个中⼼公园，或许是最像我熟知的⼭林 的地⽅，我便在⼏周后决定坐地铁前往新的庇护所，短暂地再次逃离。那天早晨的⼩区闻 上去很好，是那种微冷的清晨的味道，我带着⼜ 丝莫名的希望离开公寓⾛向地铁⼝。

我怀着这⽆理由的期待⾛进地铁那灰不溜秋的地下铁， ⼀进⼊地下通道就被铺天盖地的噪 ⾳和⼈流席卷⾛。⼈流中每⼀个⼈只是⼀个低着头的，⾏⾊匆匆的，听不⻅别⼈说话的⼀ 粒向前拥挤的分⼦。⽽我也莫名其妙地被混⼊他们，作为⼈流⾥那个速度跟不上的凹陷被 推向闸机。来到闸机⾯前，我⽆措地揣着⼿机，慌乱地点开地图。当时⼥⼉教的寻找乘⻋ 码的技术忘的⼀⼲⼆净。⾝后的⼈发出低低的⼀声“啧” ，从旁边的闸机⾛了，取⽽代之的是 下⼀个⼈。

我感受到⽆数的不耐烦的眼睛，竟然不像⼈的眼睛，盯着我的背，但仿佛没看到我这个 ⼈。过了 会⼉，他们甚⾄连眼神都不想给我了，⾝后的⼈只是冷漠地加快脚步，路过迷 茫的我，从其他闸机继续涌进地下铁。我在屏幕上⼜找了⼏下，点开⻩⾊的，点开绿⾊ 的，蓝⾊的，⼜想不起来⾃⼰究竟在找什么。周围的噪声仿佛太⼤声了，⼤得让我听不到 丝⼈类的声⾳了，我突然有种⼤哭的冲动。

我急忙找到站在闸机 旁的警察，⾄少他们有职责帮助我，让这样我看上去像个正常⼈ 点，逃离他们的注视。他随⼿点了⼏下⼿机就把⼊闸机的⼆维码找到。我忙接过⼿机，到此 时已经顾不得到底进地铁是要哪 个⼆维码，连连道谢。他露出和⼥⼉神似的表情，令我感 到⾃⼰的笑容如此的可笑，明明我想要的是帮助，明明他也给了，他甚⾄教了，他却仿佛什 么都没给。我尴尬地收回⼿机，趁觉得周围⼈不在看的时候（也不对，他们的眼睛不像是⼈ 类的）灰溜溜地离开拥挤的地铁，狼狈地逃回家。 回去的路上，这城市像⼀个陌⽣的怪物⼀样在我周围⽣⻓，嶙峋的⻣架拔地⽽起，⼈类像蚂 蚁在其间进进出出。 切都在喧嚣， 切都在忙忙碌碌地有着⾃⼰的⽬地赶往哪⾥。我在这 银灰⾊的⻆落⾥寻找 丝⼈类的痕迹，却只能⾯对这喧闹沉默。哪怕是回到家中，我也没和 ⼥⼉讲这件事情了，反⽽是继续拖着关于扫地、包饺⼦、发⼯资的噪⾳，⽇渐熟练地欺骗⾃ ⼰过着⾏⼫⾛⾁般的⽣活。我想这不是⼥⼉的问题，⽽是我跟不上时代了——这座城市也知 道。那灰⾊的怪物看到了我，伸出它的触⼿，⽤它湿冷的掌⼼将我和这⾥的所有其他⼈都单

独包裹住，隔绝起来，在我的⽣命上蒙上了 层浓雾。

浑浑噩噩的痛苦中，春节到了，⼥⼉把我姐姐的⼉⼦和他们 家和各种各样我都记不清楚的

亲戚请过来，⾃从我逃去⼭林之后我都没跟他们联系了。来到餐馆，亲戚们在 ⽚拉拉扯 扯， “啊不不您坐上位， ”“不不不不没事我坐这⾥就⾏了， ”“不不不好久没⻅嘛您坐上去” 坐 下。我却 个⼈也没记住，哪怕我记得他们每 个单独的⼈， 群⼈ 拥⽽上⽤既不关⼼⼜ 不冷漠的语⽓嘘寒问暖时，我当然⼀个认不出来。直到我被推到上位，⼤家⼜吵吵闹闹坐 下，熟悉的沉默⼜开始拉⻓了之后，我才逐渐找回⾃⼰的意识。

很明显，他们⽐我和⼥⼉更擅⻓产⽣噪⾳。他们开始娴熟地探讨⼯作、饭菜、⼩孩的学习， 我甚⾄⼜听到⼥⼉在评论王婷的婚礼。我放空地看着他们交谈，在经过和⼥⼉的多次晚餐之 后只感到⽆趣，只有那熟悉的窒息感涌上⼼头。我坐在餐桌的最上位，仿佛是个猴⼦被打扮 成了皇帝，⽆措⽽孤独。

我模糊地记得在众⼈⾮⼈的凝视下，试图组织语⾔做 个像样的春节总结： “这个城市科技很发达，交通很⽅便，楼很⾼，吃的很好，王婷的婚礼办的不错……我过得 还⾏。 ”

我⼩时候看着⽗亲每年做年度总结，⽆意义地夸耀着家⾥⼩孩的成绩和瞎编的收获数量， ⼀ 度认为⾃⼰会说的⽐他好 百倍，如今只敢机械地效仿⼥⼉每天晚餐的对话。我羞愧地低下 头。众⼈也纷纷表现出同情的模样但⼜想起不能对⻓者有这种态度于是表⽰认同，理解⽽郑 重地点点头，是的，这座城市发展的可真好呢，随后便回头再寻找话题聊⼯作、聊国家、聊 孩⼦。我获得赦免，认真吃饭。

春节像是忍耐的最后 根弦，可能我确实可笑地认为和⼥⼉的关系的困难 不必延续到家⼈。或许亲情是有可能的。你看，亲⼈有眼睛和⽿朵，还有 ⾎缘！总该⽐我逃避归去的⼭林仁慈吧。但是他们的眼神却是我在地铁上 熟知的，⼊⽬了但没看到的⿊点。他们看到的我是⼀个失败的⽗亲，⼀个 年⽼的玩笑，⼀个不太会讲话的呆⽼头。⽽我若把这些他们认为的⽪全部 蜕下来仍在餐桌上，他们也会带着那样敬重⽽毫不理解的眼神听着。我彻 彻底底地在异乡了。

除⼣晚上，我离开了观看春晚的家⼈们，道是看烟花⾛到天台上，随后⼜ 多此 举地假装回房间睡觉以防⼥⼉担⼼。我裹着棉被来到天台上，望过 ⾼楼，每家每⼾都亮着灯。⽽这座怪物般的城市也终于似乎是休息了⼀会 ⼉，⼀个⼀个脉搏般的烟花像它的⼼脏⼀样跳动着。渐渐地，⼀个接⼀个 的灯暗淡，⼀个⼜⼀个近似⼈的声⾳远去。我竟然感到它的孤独，像是找 到同类⼀般和它⼀起沉⼊冷寂的夜晚。明明是它先⼀步将我深深隔绝在⼈ 类之外的，我却能被它看到，和它连接 这 点已经没有其他⼈能做到 了。

除⼣那 整晚，我坐在天台的边缘守望着这个城市的怪物。凌晨两三点， 雾⽓开始聚拢，像我深爱的庐⼭的雾那样，像我脑海⾥的家⼈ 般聚在我 周围。他们不像我在这边屡次失望⽽恐惧的⼈，⽽是真真切切有眼睛、⼼ 脏会跳动的⼈。逐渐地，他们包裹着我，让我融进雾⽓⾥。我轻叹道，好 想像他们⼀般活着啊。

黎明将粉⾊的光芒洒在那灰暗的雾和其包裹的城市和⼈之上。在我离去 前，它似乎看到了我，以这个城市的⼈类从未看到我的⽅式看到了我并宽 我再次眷恋了这世界超越 消散

Morning Mist

LijieYin

Mywiferecentlypassedaway.

Afterherburial,mydaughterdemandedthatIleavethelittletowninLushanMountainwhereIhave lived,fussingthatshedoesn’twantmetobecomeoneofthoseoldpeoplewhocan“dieforhalfa monthwithoutpeopleknowingwhathappened”Sheinsisted,andsoIpackedsomebooksand draggedmyselfontothetraintothebigcityshelivedin.AsIsatbesideherinthecabdrivingoutof thetrainstation,Ifeltalong-forgottenjoltofhopethatsocietycouldtakemeintoitsarmsagain.

Thinkingthus,Iturnedmyattentiontotheunendingedificesoutsidethewindow. Aftermyarrival,mydaughterpreparedsomeespeciallynicefoodforthefirstdinner.Therewassoup andevenXiangchunwitheggsthatIloved.Shesmiledasshebroughtthefoodout.Andmyheart seemedtowarmitselfeversoslightlyinthewarmsteamthatcameoutofthekitchenwithher.Isat acrossfromher,stillsmiling,complimentingthefood.“Itsmellsreallygood.”

Shegaveherusualsmallsmile,hereyessofteningalittlemore.“Well,eatmoreofitthen.Don’tthink yougettheseinthemountains.”

Afterthatwassilence.Atfirstitwasnormal,acceptable.Butasthesilencestretchedthinandbroke,it begantogrowuncomfortable.Ikeptmyeyesonthebowlbeforeme,notdaringtomeethereyes. Shebeganshakingherlegs.AllthewhileIwasscrabblingaboutmymindlookingforanytopic withouttastingtheXiangchunatall,growingincreasinglyanxiousintheunnaturalsilence.The warmsteamthatcameoutofthekitchenwithherhadnowcooledandbecamecoldandclammyon myskin.Thepersonacrossthetablefeltsuddenlyfaraway.

Soon,shehadfinishedandstooduphurriedly,sayingsomethingabouthavingafewformstofill;I hurriedlyexpressedmycondolencesandhopedIlookedlikeIunderstoodtheimportanceofher work shemercifullyclosedthedoorofherroom,andIfinishedmydinnerinthecooledoffsteam, repentingthelastinteraction.

Ithought,ataratherbelatedattemptatafatherlyfigure,Icouldtrytomakeconversation.AndsoI askedherafterregularlypraisingthefoodinthenextdinner,“howareyoudoingrecently?”

“I’mokay,”sherepliedalmostreflexively.Then,noticingthesilencethatstretchedoutagain,she added,“yeah,work’sabitbusy,butdon’tworry,you’renotheretodothat.”

Iscrapedsomewarmthfromherwords,andasked,“so…howisyourwork,specifically?”

“Oh,”hertonebecameappropriately“work”-like,“it’sjustgatheringformsanddata,doingsome analysis,andsummarizingandpresentingthem.”

Sheseemedtowanttosaysomething,butonlysmiledherusualthin-lippedsmile.Ifoundinthe recessesofmymindtherepertoireofquestionsIwouldaskherafterherschooldaysinprimary schoolandscoopeduptheconversation,“How’syourrelationshipwithyourcolleaguesthen?” Shepickedatherfood,“well,IhaveAlice,Bernard,andCarolinmygroup.Theyworkfine,we cooperatewell.”

Sheseemedtoknowshedidn’texactlyanswerthequestion,andshruggedhershouldersasifto apologize.“Well,myworkdoesn’treallyinvolveinteractingwiththemthatmuch.Wejustcome togethertomakeapresentationeveryweek.So,it’sokay…Aliceeveninvitedmetoherweddingsome timeago.It’snormal.”“Oh,that’snice.Yeah…”Ihadalreadylosttrackasshestartedlistingpeople’s names.ButIdidn’twanttoknowwhatAdrianorAlissaorwhoever,Ijustwantedtoknow,“areyou happy?”

Shebegantoshakeherlegs,andquitenonchalantlyreplied,asshedoestoallotherquestions,“it’sokay. I’mnotsleepingthatlateSo relativelygoodIguess”Iliftedthecornersofmymouthbriefly,“It’s goodthatyou’rehappy.”

YetthemoreIaskedthehollowermyheartfelt.Beforewetriedtomakeconversation,theblurry warmthofsteamhadcoveredusboth;nowthesteamhadcooledandretreated.Thiswasworsethanlast dinner,andIfeltclosertothethoughtofherIhadinLushan.

Soon,shecopiedandpastedmyquestions.“Whataboutyou,howareyoulately?”

“I’m,”Itriedthenrealizedhowmuchofastrangershewastome,“it’sbeenfine.”

Thetwoofusescapedthedinnertableagain.

Thirddinner,IlearnedaboutAlice,Bernard,Carlos,andallthetipsofcooperatingwiththem;fourth dinner,shetoldmeabouttheprojectshewasworking;fifthdinnerIlearnedthathercomputerwas growing;sixthdinner…Irecordedthemall,likearesponsiblefathershould,yeteverydinneronlywore medownandstretchedmethin.Icouldnotdenythefamilialbondthatbindsustogether,andsothe bondpersistsprecariouslyinthislimbo.

Onthewaybackfromthetrainstation,mydaughterhadbrieflymentionedthatthereisacentralparkin thecity,whichisprobablytheclosestIcouldfindtotheforestsIknew.Afterafewweeks,Idecidedto takethesubwaytomynewsanctuary.ThemorningIleftsmelledpleasantlycoldandsharpscent. Iwalkedintothegreystomachofthesubwaywiththishope,immediatelycaughtupinthewavesof soundsandassoonasIsteppedintotheundergroundpassage.Floodsofidentifiablepeoplehunchedover theirphonesandh i t dthid ti ti hd l th fl Ait d dI pushedinfron waslostand supposedto*do thesubwayTh

Numerousan while,theygot wasblocking.It anotherblueap

Ingeniously,Irememberedthesecurityguardsbythegates,whoatleasthaveadutytohelpmelikea normalpersonagain.Theguardnodded,swipedaroundmyphoneandsmoothlyfoundtheQRcodeto enterthesubway.Ithankedhimprofuselyandhegavemealooklikemydaughter’s,andmysmilebegan tofeellaughableandextra.IfeltlikeIwasstilllost,andsoIputmyphonebackintomyhandbag,waited untilthepeoplearoundmeseemedtobestaringless(wellno,theireyesdidn’tfeellikehumans’atall),and creptoutofthesubwaystationhomewards.

Alongtheway,thecityseemedtogrowaroundmelikeamonsterwithsky-scrapingsteelboneswhilethe peopletrailedamongthemlikeants.Everythingandeveryoneseemedalwaystohavesomegoal,always hurrying,untiltheyallblurtogetherintoanunidentifiable,unseeing,unfeelingmass.Ifellsilentbeforethe all-consumingnoiseofthecity,andremainedsoafterIreturnedtotheapartment.IreflectedIwasoldand couldnolongerfollowthepaceofsocietyasitboundedforward.Thegreymonsterofthecityhadseen me,theanomaly,andstretchedoutitsfingerstoenclosemeinitscoldclammygrasp,separatedawayfrom otherpeopleinaheavyfog.

Ilivedinthisdullpainformonths,untilSpringFestivalcame,andmydaughterwantedinvitedevery relativenearbytocomecelebrate.Aftertheusualfussaboutseating,everybodysatdown,satisfiedwiththe “warm”turmoiltheyhadmade.Ididn'trememberanyofthem,becauseevenifIdidremember individuals,Icouldn'trecognizeanyastheyrushedbeforemeinunisonandaskedaboutmyhealthin tonesthatwereneithercaringnorindifferent.Itwasn'tuntilIwaspushedintomyseat,surroundedby familiarsilence,thatIgraduallyregainedmyawareness.

Clearly,theywerebetteratgeneratingnoisethanmydaughterandI.Theydronedonandonaboutwork, meals,andchildren'sstudiesIevenheardmydaughtercommentingonAlice'sweddingagainIwatched themtalkasiffromafarplace,feelingboredaftermanydinnerswithmydaughter,thefamiliarfeelingof suffocationgrowingwithinme.Isatthereatthetopofthetable,likeanawkwardmonkeydressedinillfittingemperorclothesofanelder.Forthecustomarysummaryofeachyearbytheelders,Icommented, “Thiscityisquitedeveloped,thetransportationisveryconvenient,thebuildingsareverytall,thefoodis verygood,Alice'sweddingwaswelldone…I’mfine.”

WhenIwasachild,Iwatchedmyfathermakesummarieseveryyear,stupidlyboastingaboutthe achievementsofhischildrenandthemade-upharvestnumbers.IoncethoughtthatIcouldspeaka hundredtimesbetterthanhim,butnowIcanonlydumblyimitatemydaughter’sdailyconversation.I loweredmyhead.Everyonealsoshowedsomeappropriatesympathybutsincetheyshouldnothavesuch anattitudetowardstheelders,theyagreed,understoodandnoddedsolemnly,yes,thiscityisdeveloping reallywell.Iwaspardoned,andfocusedonthebeforeme.

TheSpringFestivalbrokemytolerance.PerhapsIhadridiculouslyhopedthattheunreachable distancebetweenmeandmydaughterdoesnotneedtoextendtotherestofthefamily.After all,theyhaveeyesandears,andevenafamilialbond!Theyshouldbeatleastkinderthanthe forestsandtrees.ButtheireyesaretheonesIknowinthesubways inhumanandunseeing.

Theysawinmeafailureofafather,abadjokeofoldage,adulloldmanwhodoesn’teven knowhowtomakeagoodSpringFestivalsummary.AndifIpeelalltheseskinsthattheysee andleavethematthediningtable,theywillstilllistenonwiththatrespectfuland uncomprehendinglookintheireyes.Iwascompletelyinaforeignland.

Thatnight,IleftmyfamilywatchingtheSpringFestivalGala,claimingtowanttogotothe rooftopoftheapartmentbuildingtowatchthefireworks,evenpretendingtogobacktomy roomtosleepmidwaytopreventmydaughterfromworrying.Thereontherooftop,I wrappedmyselfinaquiltandsatlookingacrosstheexpanseofbrightapartmentbuildings below.Thismonster-likecityfinallyseemedtohavetakenabreakaswell,itsheartbeatingin thepulsesofthefireworks.Gradually,thelightsdimmedoneafteranother,andthehuman-ish voicesfaded.Ifelt,strangely,tohavefoundakininthisgreybeing,andfellintothecoldnight withit.

SoIsatontheedgeoftherooftopallnightwatchingoverthemonsterofthiscity.Attwoor threeo'clockinthemorning,themorningmistsbegantogather,remindingmeofthefogin LushanMountainthatIlovedsomuch.Itgatheredaroundme,likelivingbeings,unlikethe humansIgraduallygrewafraidanddisappointedofhere,butonesthatreallyhadheartsIcould seeandtouch.Theygraduallyenvelopedme,andImeltedintothem,wantingtosetdownall thismeaninglesspain.

Soon,dawnsheditspinklightonthegrayfog,city,andpeople.BeforeIleft,itseemedtosee mewithitscosmicandmercifuleyes,inawaythatnohumanbeinginthiscityhadeverseen me,forgivingme.Deardaughter,Ibegforyourforgivenessagain,forIamrunningaway oncemore.Iamtooinlovewiththeloveabovehumanbeingsofthisworld,anddissipatein themistsasitwrapsaroundmegently.

GinaKim

Ibeginlikethis,

Rightfoot,leftfoot,andthenagainuntilIgettoyou.Youwhoareattheendofthehallway,eyes darkenedintheshadeandhandsoutstretched,clappingandclappingandclappingandclapping.

Youwhoarecallingmetoyou. Aredbandanaonmyinfanthead,theCaliforniansunturningeverythingfuzzy.Icalloutyour name–theonlynameyouhadallowedyourselfsincemybeginning–엄마.

I’mnotawriter.Thesearemydreamsandmymemoriesandmywishes.IwishIknewwhatI was.Orknow.IwishIcouldtellyou.

TheytellmeIthinkofhomeoften.AndIguessIdo.Ithinkofmysister,mymom,andmeIat theendoftheworldtogether.Barefootandwarm.Oursheetspowderyandheavywithourwet hairandbabylotion.

HowdoIgohome?Willmymomdrivemethere?WillIsitinthebackofherwhiteSienna watchingthelights,thetrees,thecars,thepeopleblur?WillIgoalone?WhatwillIseewhenI getthere?WillIseeawarmdishofporkribsorFourthofJulyfireworks?Areoursheetsdryingin theafternoonsun? 그리고 만약에 내가 집에 돌아가면, 나는 어떻게 변할까?

ItwasmyseconddayinKorea.AndIrememberseeing 엄마 dozingoffonthebalcony.Icansee herheadslipping,andnodding,slowly.I’mlayingonthelivingroomfloorbehindthesliding doorslisteningtothesoundofthechildrenlaughingintheplaygroundbeneathus.Timeisstill foramoment,whensheisasleep.AndIcanseethelinesinherface,thewispsofcoloredand greyedhairblowinggentlyinthewind.Herwornhandstuckedunderherarms.

Iwonderedifthiswaswhatrestwas.There’smusicplayingsomewhereinthedistance.

Iimaginedturningintoasmallchild,crawlingontoherlap.Iimaginedherstirring,justslightly. Thenshedrapesonearmaroundmeandpullsmecloser,asshefallsbackasleep.Iimaginethe warmbreezeonmycheek.IimaginethisisthewarmestandthesafestplaceintheworldthatI hadalwaysbeenrunningawayfrom.Iimaginethatthis,iswhatforgivenessfeelslike.

솔직히 말하자면 나는 아직도 이해가 안 되는게 너무 많다. 내 꿈은 언어가 없다. 가끔 나는꿈속 이야기를 이해하지만, 때때로 나는 이해하지 못한다. 꿈속에서, 내가 사랑하는 모든 사람들이 집에 있고, 나는 그들을 만나러 가는 길이다.

Ibeginlikethis,

Rightfoot,leftfoot,andthenagainuntilIgettoyou.Youwhoareattheendofthehallway,eyes darkenedintheshadeandhandsoutstretched,clappingandclappingandclappingandclapping. Youwhoarecallingmetoyou.

Aredbandanaonmyinfanthead,theCaliforniansunturningeverythingfuzzy.Icalloutyour name–theonlynameyouhadallowedyourselfsincemybeginning–umma.

I’mnotawriter.Thesearemydreamsandmymemoriesandmywishes.IwishIknewwhatI was.Orknow.IwishIcouldtellyou.

TheytellmeIthinkofhomeoften.AndIguessIdo.Ithinkofmysister,mymom,andIatthe endoftheworldtogether.Barefootandwarm.Oursheetspowderyandheavywithourwethair andbabylotion.

HowdoIgohome?Willmymomdrivemethere?WillIsitinthebackofherwhiteSienna watchingthelights,thetrees,thecars,thepeopleblur?WillIgoalone?WhatwillIseewhenI getthere?WillIseeawarmdishofporkribsorFourthofJulyfireworks?Areoursheetsdryingin theafternoonsun?AndifIgohome,howwillIchange?

ItwasmyseconddayinKorea.AndIrememberseeingummadozingoffonthebalcony.Ican seeherheadslipping,andnodding,slowly.I’mlayingonthelivingroomfloorbehindthesliding doorslisteningtothesoundofthechildrenlaughingintheplaygroundbeneathus.Timeisstill foramoment,whensheisasleep.AndIcanseethelinesinherface,thewispsofcoloredand greyedhairblowinggentlyinthewind.Herwornhandstuckedunderherarms.

Iwonderedifthiswaswhatrestwas.There’smusicplayingsomewhereinthedistance.

Iimaginedturningintoasmallchild,crawlingontoherlap.Iimaginedherstirring,justslightly. Thenshedrapesonearmaroundmeandpullsmecloser,asshefallsbackasleep.Iimaginethe warmbreezeonmycheek.IimaginethisisthewarmestandthesafestplaceintheworldthatI hadalwaysbeenrunningawayfrom.Iimaginethatthis,iswhatforgivenessfeelslike.

IfIspeakhonestly,there’sstillsomuchIcan’tunderstand.Mydreamhasnolanguage.Sometimes Iunderstandwhatthosedreamsareallabout,butsometimesIdon’t.Inmydreams,everyoneI loveisathome,andI’monmywaytoseethem.

ﺔﻌﺷأﱃوأﻞﺜﻣكﺮﻤﻐﺗﻰﻘﻴﺳﻮﻤﻟاﺔﺌﻓادوﺔﺌﻴﻄﺑﻦﺤﻠﻟاﺔﻳاﺪﺑ.ﺲﻤﺸﻟاقوﺮﺷﻞﺜﻣﺔﻴﻨﻏأيأﺔﻳاﺪﺑ ﻦﻴﺣﻲﻫﺔﻄﻘﻨﻟاﻚﻠﺗﻲﻟﺔﺒﺴﻨﻟﺎﺑﻦﻜﻟوﺺﺨﺸﻟاﺐﺴﺣﺲﻤﺸﻟاقوﺮﺷﺔﻄﻘﻧﻒﻠﺘﺨﺗ.ﺲﻤﺸﻟا ءﺎﻨﻐﻟﺎﺑأﺪﺒﺗﺔﺑﺮﻄﻤﻟا.

ﲆﻋحﺎﺒﺼﻟاﻢﻈﻌﻣﻲﻀﻗأﺖﻨﻛوﻞﻠﻤﻟﺎﺑتﺮﻌﺷ.ﻲﺘﻓﺮﻏﻞﺧادﺖﻨﻛﺎﻧأورﺎﺣﻲﺿﺎﻤﻟاﻒﻴﺼﻟامﻮﻳنﺎﻛ ﻢﺳافﺮﻋأﻢﻟﻦﻜﻟوﻲﻣﺎﻤﺘﻫإترﺎﺛأﺔﻴﻨﻏأﻮﻳﺪﻴﻓﲆﻋتﺮﺜﻋ.ﺮﻴﻜﻔﺗنودتﺎﻫﻮﻳﺪﻴﻓﺪﻫﺎﺷأماﺮﺠﺘﺴﻧﻹا ءﺎﻨﺛأ.ﺎﻫﺪﺟﻷﻮﻳﺪﻴﻔﻟاﺖﺤﺗﻒﻴﻨﺼﺘﻟاتﺎﻣﻼﻌﻟالﻼﺧﻦﻣﺚﺤﺑأنأتأﺪﺒﻓﺔﺑﺮﻄﻤﻟاﻢﺳاوأﺔﻴﻨﻏﻷا .ةرﻮﺤﺴﻣارﻮﻓﺖﻨﻛو"ﺚﻟﺎﺜﻟاوﻦﻴﻣﻮﻳ"ﻲﻨﻐﺗﻖﻴﻓﻮﺗةﺮﻴﻤﺳﺔﻴﻧﺎﻨﺒﻠﻟاﺔﺑﺮﻄﻤﻠﻟ ﻮﻳﺪﻴﻓﺮﺒﻋﺖﺌﺟﻲﺜﺤﺑ ﻖﻴﻔﺼﺘﻟاوﻦﻴﻓزﺎﻌﻟاوسرﻮﻜﻟاوةﺮﻴﻤﺳةﺪﻴﺴﻟاتاﻮﺻأ.ﺔﻳﺪﻌﻤﻟاحﺮﻔﻟاﺔﺌﻴﺑنﺎﻛﻪﺘﻈﺣﻻءﻲﺷلوأ رﻮﻬﺷﺪﻌﺑ.ﺔﻴﻨﻏﻷاعﺎﻘﻳإﻖﺑﺎﻄﻴﻟﻪﺗﺎﻗدﺮﻴﻏﻲﺒﻠﻗﻪﻧﺄﻛﺮﻣﻷااﺪﺑوﻞﻣﺎﻛويﻮﻴﺣتﻮﺻﺖﻘﻠﺧﺔﻄﻠﺘﺨﻤﻟا

ﻲﺘﻟاﺔﻴﻧﺎﺜﻟاةﺰﻴﻤﻟا.بﺮﻃ:ﺔﻴﺑﺮﻌﻟاﺔﻐﻠﻟاﻲﻓﻢﺳاﺎﻬﻟﺔﻴﻘﻴﺳﻮﻣةﻮﺸﻧلﺎﺤﻟااﺬﻫ،رﻮﻌﺸﻟااﺬﻫنأﺖﻤﻠﻋ .ﺔﻴﺘﻳزﺔﺣﻮﻠﻛﺔﻴﺣومﻮﺠﻨﻛﺔﻌﻃﺎﺳ،ﺔﻴﺿرأوﺔﻘﻴﻤﻋﺖﻧﺎﻛﺎﻬﺗﻮﺻةدﻮﺟ:ﺔﺑﺮﻄﻤﻟاتﻮﺻﺖﻧﺎﻛﺎﻬﺘﻈﺣﻻ ﻦﻣتﺰﻔﻗﺔﻴﻨﻏﻷاتﺎﻤﻠﻛنأوﺪﺒﺗﺖﻨﻏﺎﻤﻛ.ﻂﻗحﺮﻔﻟاﻦﻣرﺪﻘﻟااﺬﻬﺑﻲﻨﻐﻳﺺﺨﺷﱃإﻊﻤﺳأﻢﻟ هﺬﻬﻟﺔﻴﺒﻨﺟأﺔﻐﻟﻢﻬﻓةداراﻲﻟﻖﺒﺴﻳﻢﻟ.ﺎﻫﺮﻌﺷوﺎﻬﻧاﻮﻟﺄﺑءاﻮﻬﻟاﺖﻤﺳروﺔﻳرﺎﻧبﺎﻌﻟأﻞﺜﻣﺎﻬﻴﺘﻔﺷ ﺔﻐﻠﻟﺎﺑﻲﻘﻳﺮﻃتأﺪﺑاﺬﻜﻫ.ﻰﻘﻴﺳﻮﻤﻟاﻊﻣﺖﻘﻠﺧتﺎﻤﻠﻜﻟارﻮﺻيأوﺖﻟﺎﻗﺎﻣﻢﻬﻓأنأتدرأ.ﺔﺟرﺪﻟا ﻰﻘﻴﺳﻮﻤﻟاﺮﺤﺑﻲﻓﻲﺴﻔﻧتﺪﻘﻓوبﻮﺗﻮﻳوأﻮﺠﻨﻴﻟودﲆﻋﺔﺳارﺪﺑتﺎﻋﺎﺳﺖﻴﻀﻗمﻮﻳﻞﻛ.ﺔﻴﺑﺮﻌﻟا ﻦﻋﺖﻤﻠﻌﺗ،ﺔﻳدﺎﺷونﺎﻬﻤﺳا،ﺪﻤﺤﻣدﺎﻌﺳومﻮﺜﻠﻛمأو،حﺎﺒﺻوزوﺮﻴﻓﺐﺋﺎﺠﻋﺖﻔﺸﺘﻛا:ﺔﻴﺑﺮﻌﻟا ﻲﺜﺤﺑﺎﻌﺒﻃو.ﺎﻬﺋﺎﻤﺳﺄﺑتﺎﻋﺎﻘﻳإةﺪﻋﻦﻴﺑقﺮﻓأﻒﻴﻛﻲﺴﻔﻧﺖﺳردوﺖﻧﺮﺘﻧﻹاﲆﻋسﺎﻨﺟأوتﺎﻣﺎﻘﻣ ﻖﻴﻓﻮﺗةﺮﻴﻤﺳةﺪﻴﺴﻟا:ﻻوأﺔﻴﺑﺮﻌﻟاﺔﻐﻠﻟاوﻰﻘﻴﺳﻮﻤﻟاباﻮﺑأﻲﻟﺖﺤﺘﻓﻲﺘﻟاﺔﺑﺮﻄﻤﻟاﻦﻋ.

نﺎﻨﺒﻟﻲﻓﻞﻴﻣﺮﻟاﻲﺣﻲﻓ تﺄﺸﻧﻦﻜﻟو١٩٣٥مﺎﻋﻲﻓﺎﻳرﻮﺳﻲﻓﻦﻴﺗرﺎﺣمأﻲﻓتﺪﻟوﻖﻴﻓﻮﺗةﺮﻴﻤﺳ ةرﻮﻬﺸﻣﺖﺤﺒﺻأ.ﺔﻨﺳ٨٧ﺎﻫﺮﻤﻋةﺮﻴﻤﺳةﺪﻴﺴﻟاﺔﻟﺎﻘﻤﻟاهﺬﻫﺔﺑﺎﺘﻛﺖﻗوﻲﻓ.ﺔﻴﻧﺎﻨﺒﻟﺎﻬﺴﻔﻧﺮﺒﺘﻌﺗو

ﻦﻴﻋﺎﻳ"ﺎﻤﺑرﻲﻫﻖﻴﻓﻮﺗةﺮﻴﻤﺳﻲﻧﺎﻏأﺮﻬﺷأ.ﻲﻧدرﻷايوﺪﺒﻟانﻮﻠﻟاﻲﻓﻲﻧﺎﻏأﺖﻨﻏﺚﻴﺣندرﻷاﻲﻓ ﺎﻳ" و"ﻲﻧاﺮﻤﺳأ"ﻲﻫﻲﻟاﺔﻠﻀﻔﻤﻟاﻲﻧﺎﻏأﻦﻜﻟو"ﻒﻴﻀﻟﺎﺑﻼﻫﺎﻳ"وأ"ةﻮﻬﻘﻟاﻮﺒﺼﺗﻪﻠﻟﺎﺑ"وأ"ﻦﻴﺘﻴﻟﻮﻣ نأﻦﻜﻤﻤﻟاﻦﻣنﻵاﺔﻴﺑﺮﻌﻟاﺔﻐﻠﻟاﻢﻠﻌﺗﻦﻣﺔﻨﺳﺪﻌﺑو."ﺚﻟﺎﺜﻟاوﻦﻴﻣﻮﻳ"ﺎﻌﺒﻃو"ﺔﻴﺒﻌﻟاﲆﻋﺐﻛار .ﺔﻠﻴﺒﻘﻟاكﺮﺘﻳيﺬﻟاﺐﻴﺒﺤﻠﻟقﻮﺸﻟارﻮﻌﺷﻦﻋﻢﻠﻜﺘﺗﺔﻴﻨﻏﻷا."ﺚﻟﺎﺜﻟاوﻦﻴﻣﻮﻳ"ﺔﻴﻨﻏﻷاتﺎﻤﻠﻛﻢﺟﺮﺗأ نوﺪﺑﻞﻣﺎﻛﺲﻴﻟﺎﻬﺘﻴﺑﻒﻴﻛوﺎﻬﺒﻴﺒﺣﻦﻣﺐﻏﺮﺗﺎﻣوﺎﻬﺒﻴﺒﺣنوﺪﺑﻪﺑﺮﻌﺸﺗﺎﻣﻒﺼﺗﺔﻴﻨﻏﻷاﺔﻠﻄﺑ ﺔﻴﺑﺮﻌﻟاﺔﻐﻠﻟادﻮﺟﻮﺑﻻإﺔﻠﻣﺎﻛﻦﻜﺗﻢﻟﻲﺗﺎﻴﺣﺎﻬﺒﻴﺒﺣدﻮﺟﻮﺑﻻإﻞﻣﺎﻛﺲﻴﻟﺔﻴﻨﻏﻷاﺔﻠﻄﺑﺖﻴﺑﺎﻤﻛ

The beginning of a song is like a sunrise. The melody begins slowly, and the warmth of the music envelops you like the first rays of sun. The exact moment of sunrise differs from person to person, but to me, that moment is when the singer starts singing.

It was a hot summer day, and I was in my room; I was bored and had spent most of the morning scrolling mindlessly through Instagram videos. I stumbled upon a video of a song that caught my interest, but I didn’t know the name of the song or name of the singer, so I began searching through the hashtags beneath the video to find it. During my search, I came across a video of Lebanese singer Samira Tawfiq singing "Youmien Ou AlThalath" (“Two Days and a Third”) and was immediately enchanted. The first quality that struck me was the atmosphere of infectious joy; her voice, the chorus, the musicians, and the clapping together created a full sound that radiated life, and it seemed as if my heart had changed its beat to match the rhythm of the song. Months later, I would come to learn that this sensation, this state of musical ecstasy had a name in Arabic: Tarab. The second quality that struck me was her voice: its quality was deep and earthy, bright as stars and vivid as an oil painting. I have never heard anyone sing with such radiance. As she sang, it seemed that lyrics leapt from her lips like fireworks, painting the air with their colors and poetry. I had never wanted to understand a foreign language so much. I wanted to understand what it was she said and what images the words created with the music. And thus began my journey with Arabic. Every day I spent hours studying on Duolingo, or surfing YouTube for language lessons, and in the remaining time I allowed myself to be lost in the sea of Arabic music: I discovered the wonders of Fairuz and Sabah, Umm Kulthum and Souad Muhammad, Asmahan and Shadia. I learned about maqamat and ajnas online and taught myself to differentiate several iqa’at by name. And, of course, I continued to research the singer who first opened the doors of music and the Arabic language to me: Samira Tawfiq.

Samira Tawfiq was born in Umm Hartein, Syria in 1935, but was raised in Lebanon in the village of Rmeil, and therefore considers herself Lebanese. At the time of writing this, she is 87 years old. She became famous in Jordan, where she sang songs in the Jordanian Bedouin style. Her most famous songs are perhaps "Ya ‘Ayn Moulayyitin", "Ballah Tsubbu Al-Qahwa", or "Ya Hala Beldayf", but my favorites are "Asmarani", "Ya Rakib ‘Al ‘Abayya", and, of course, “Youmien Ou Al-Thalath", and after a year of learning Arabic, I can finally translate its lyrics. The song talks about the feeling of longing for a loved one who leaves the clan. The heroine of the song describes how she feels without her beloved, what she wishes he would do, and how her home is not complete without him. As the home of the song’s heroine is incomplete without her beloved, my life would be incomplete without the Arabic language and the joy and beauty of Arabic music and poetry. And as the sun illuminates the ground, the first note of, "Youmien Ou AlThalath", too, illuminated my life.

上下午的你融化了，是左右流動的⾦箔。

你⼀滴滴地滲透在⻘翠嫩綠的葉縫間， 慢吞吞、懶洋洋，無拘無束；

只可惜你⼜無形無影，其實虛無縹緲。我⽤⼿試著 抓住你，留住你，但你卻像個調⽪的⼩孩，

無論如何也不肯停下腳步，只⽤那絲

時斷時續的溫暖，把我的渴望當玩物般戲弄：

點燃⼜熄滅，點燃⼜熄滅。

中午的你，誕於烈⽇當空的時⾠，

只顧着炫耀你的光輝，太⾃⼤、太浮誇了。

你就像⼤娛樂家在舞台上閃耀，鋒芒畢露，

吸引觀眾們的注意，無所不⽤其極，

得意到忘形、忘根、忘本。我⽤⼿試着

遮擋住眼睛，但即使戴上了帽⼦，

也逃不過你那刺眼的射燈，刺⽿地⼤喊： 現在存在嗎？現在存在嗎？

⼣陽的你無限好，只是近⿈昏。

傍晚的⽩雲也許是塗上了⼀層淡淡的粉紅，

看似神仙化了妝的臉頰。配上那⾦碧輝煌的佈景，

天宮似乎傳來了勝利的號⻆聲。但我再

仔細⼀看，發現你竟是落⽇默默流的⾎淚，

漸漸地把棉花染得滿是鮮紅；

仔細⼀聽：竟是每天都重新破裂的傷⼝，

傳來了悲慘可憐的哀嚎聲。

唯有黎明的你，是溫柔的，是永恆的。

在夜晚變得絕望無助之際，你毫無懼⾊地發光發熱，

以破曉⼀⾔道破了凌晨的⿊暗，為冷漠無情的⼤地

蓋上了暖和的被⼦。在露珠晶瑩剔透的反影裏，

你輕輕地閃爍着，使天上眾星都感動得掉落到地上，

海裏的珍珠也紛紛飄浮到岸上。你就成了

天上派來的使者，向萬物傳報佳⾳：

這循環是無窮無盡的！這循環是無窮無盡的！

AnOdetoDawn

AlistairLam

Inthemorningsandafternoonsyou meltedintoflakesofliquidgold, flowingleftandright.Youseeped,dropby drop,throughthecracksofyouthfulleaves, slowly,lazily,withoutacare;yetyouwerealso withoutshapeandshadow,makingyou nothingbutaflightoffancy.Myhandstriedto graspontoyou,tomakeyoustay,butyouactedlikea mischievouschild,neverceasinginyourfootsteps.The ficklenessofyourwarmthmockedmylonging,likeitwasyourplaything: Ignitedandextinguished,ignitedandextinguished.

Atnoonyouwerebornofthe blazingsun,highinthemiddaysky.Youcaredonlyto showoffyourgleam,withsuch arroganceandsparklyextravaganza.Youactedlikean entertainer,dazzlingonstageasifaglintingblade,fully exposed.Tocatchtheaudience’s attention,youresortedtoanymeans,so gloriousthatyouhadforgotten yourshape,yourroots,yourorigin.Myhandstriedto shieldmyeyes,butevenwithahaton,Icouldn’tescapeyour piercingspotlights,withits piercingscream:

DoIexistnow?

Do I exist now?

Youweregorgeousintheeveningglow,yetitwas dimmingtodarkness.Thepalecloudsatduskmightseemtobe paintedwithathinlayeroflightpink,likea fairy’spowderedcheek.Againstthegoldenand gloriousbackdrop,thepalacesofheavenseemedtosoundtheir trumpetsoftriumph.YetwhenIlooked closer,Irealizedyouwerethesettingsun’s silenttearsofblood,slowlystainingthewhitecotton brightred.WhenIlistened closer,Irealizedyourwound rupturedaneweachday,thesounds blaringwailsofwoe.

Onlyattwilightwereyougentleandinfinite. Whenthehopelessnightbecametoomuchtobear,you radiatedwithvalor,rebukingdarkness’slieswithyour glimmer,coveringthecoldandunforgivinglandswiththe warmblanketofdaybreak.Intheglossyreflectionofthe morning’sdew,youglistenedwithsuch gracethatrousedthemultitudeofstarsintheskyto falltotheearth;withsuch tendernessthatrousedthemanypearlsoftheseato floattowardstheshores—Allwasillumined,whenyou proclaimedthegospelofdawntoallthelands,becominga harbingersentfromabove: Thiscycleisforever!Thiscycleisforever!

نوتيزلانيبرجفلاتاسمه"

"

نﻮﺘﻳﺰﻟاضرأﻲﻓ لﻼﺘﺣﻻاﺔﺳﺮﻄﻏﺖﺤﺗ ﻊﺒﻧﻞﻛﲆﻋنوﺮﻄﻴﺴﻳ؟ءﺎﻤﻟاﻦﻳأ ةﺎﻴﺤﻟادراﻮﻣﺮﻣﺪﺗﻢﻬﻳﺪﻳﺄﺑومﻮﻤﺴﻠﻟضﺮﻌﺘﺗﺔﻋورﺰﻤﻟاﻲﺿارﻷا تﻮﻤﺗﺔﻋارﺰﻟﺎﻓ،ضرﻷاﻲﻜﺒﺗو نوﺮﺻﺎﺤﻣبﺎﺒﺸﻟاو،ﺔﻠﺒﻜﻣةرﺎﺠﺘﻟا ةﺎﺠﻨﻠﻟﺔﺻﺮﻓﻦﻋﺚﺤﺒﺗيدﺎﻳﻷاﻞﻈﺗو

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ﻢﻴﻠﻌﺘﻠﻟنﻮﺸﻄﻌﺘﻳﺎﻬﺑﻼﻃ ةرﻮﻈﺤﻣمﻼﺣﻷاو،ﺔﻋﻮﻄﻘﻣرﻮﺴﺠﻟاﻦﻜﻟ ﺐﻠﺴﺗضرﻷاو،ﻊﺳﻮﺘﺗتﺎﻨﻃﻮﺘﺴﻤﻟاﺎﻤﻨﻴﺑ ﻰﺷﻼﺘﻴﺳمﻼﻈﻟاو،بﺮﺘﻘﻳاﺮﺠﻓكﺎﻨﻫﻦﻜﻟ ﺪﻳﺪﺟﻦﻣةﺎﻴﺤﻟاأﺪﺒﺗو،قﺮﺸﺘﺳﺲﻤﺸﻟا ﻞﻣﻷاﻲﻧﺎﻣأﻖﺜﺒﻨﺗ،ﻢﻠﻈﻟاﺐﻠﻗﻲﻓ

ةﻮﻘﺑﺾﻬﻨﻧودﺪﺠﺘﻧ،ﺪﻳﺪﺟﺮﺠﻓﻞﻛﻊﻣوﺲﻤﺸﻟاﺔﻌﺷأﱃوأغﺰﺒﺗﺎﻣﺪﻨﻋو لﺎﻔﻃﻷاهﻮﺟوﲆﻋﺎﻘﻳﺮﺑﻊﻤﻠﺗ ةدﻮﻌﻟاﻲﻧﺎﻏﺄﺑﺲﻤﻬﻳنﻮﺘﻳﺰﻟﺎﻓ ﺔﻤﺴﻧﻞﻜﺑدﺪﺠﺘﻳﻞﻣﻷاو،ﺲﻔﻨﺘﺗضرﻷاو

JosephElsayyid

"WhispersofDawnAmongtheOlives"

Joseph Elsayyid

In the land of olives, under the arrogance of occupation.

Where is the water? They control every spring, And with their hands, life's resources are shattered.

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The cultivated lands face herbicides, And the earth cries, as agriculture dies. Trade is shackled, and the youth are trapped, Yet hands keep searching for a chance to survive.

-

Its students thirst for an education,

But bridges are severed, and dreams are restricted. While settlements expand, and land is usurped.

But a dawn is nearing, and darkness will fade, The sun will rise, and life begins anew,

In the heart of oppression, hopes of optimism emerge, And with every new dawn, we rejuvenate and rise with strength.

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And when the first rays of sun emerge, They sparkle on the faces of children, For the olives whisper songs of return, As the land inhales, each breeze rekindles hope anew.

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Soon, melodies of joy will rise in the alleyways, And the youth will dance to the tunes of freedom, For nature mirrors the spirit of the people, Ready to embrace a new season of renewal.