Death of the Artists: Marinetti’s Last Stand

IT'S SEPTEMBER, 1942, the Eighth Italian Army is camped just west of the Don River, preparing their latest counterattack against the Soviets in...
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Julia Kissina

When the dogs had finished their business, they were, for quite some time afterward, unable to disentangle, and the Abbot asked us not to disturb them. After he had anointed them with holy water, they slid apart and scurried out of the temple. I followed them out into the street.

Pavol Rankov

In the evenings Karcsi sat quietly at the table and watched his mother pray. Her lips moved silently through the rosary, and he looked as if he were trying to figure out which part of the prayer she was saying.

Gaurav Monga

After the disaster, all our fears subsided, for everything was now destroyed

Julia Lukshina

Life is so afflicted by clarity and definition these days that the sensations of mystery and beauty I associated with the mist are even more precious to me.

Pratiwi Juliani

“I threw it away in a plastic bag, from that bridge.” “That’s a shame.” “Not really. I loved it. At the point it died, someone loved it.”

Dušan Mitana

There is no better servant than one who serves out of conviction. Only he who is burning himself can set others on fire. Juraj was burning...

Richard Pupala

There was a time, long, long ago now, when Michal used to be scared of him. Once he was startled awake in the middle of a hot summer’s night, to find his little brother sitting on his bed, motionless, a dark silhouette.

Zoran Feric

After midnight he found himself in an all-night bar, one of the worst shitholes in the city. A place where all the whores of the Warsaw Pact congregated. Here you could find everything: from Russian soldiers who sold amphetamines to child pornography.

Anna Bolava

I am also a perfectly transparent and easily read being, in the eyes of everyone, yet unnoticed, an exclamation mark in the middle of a vast plane, a smudge on the horizon, swinging from east to west and back again.

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