A Syrian refugee visits London’s oldest houses of fashion. ‘The contemplation of the perfection of a craft, worn by a man who knew its worth, and his own.’
‘‘I have a body now,’ I whisper.’
’The Christmas carols in Waikiki were being sung in Japanese‘.
A new story from Terese Svoboda about love, money and power in the hands of an aging parent.
Ce jour-là, comme chaque jour, des poissons avaient nagé au-dessus des têtes.
‘She thought of what else he didn’t know. What else she would have to find out for herself.’
‘With the passing of time we got used to hearing our brother being our mother.’
‘There is no face more familiar than one’s own.’
‘I found myself sitting on a bench in Shinjuku Central Park, dazed like a junkie, when the wind plastered a sports tabloid to my legs and an advertisement jumped out at me‘
‘The sky burned white to blond to powder to an almighty blue; the sun fell unobstructed.’
‘My wife and I were both the children of Pakistanis, immigrants, Muslims, and we had faith that our union was of things greater than ourselves.’
‘All you needed for the modern world was to know how to work a remote control.’
‘You can follow the trail but you can’t know in which direction you are headed’
‘Jesus came walking across the lawn, a grin on his face. I waved. “Hi, Jesus.”’
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