My Body Is a Garden By Maryna Smahina on November 18, 2018 My body is a garden. I bear this big juicy fruit inside it. I can feel it in my chest, growing, getting heavier day by day, it is hanging there like my future is hanging in the air, a promise of sweetness and …

My body is a broken gift By Mariia Koltsova on November 17, 2018 Anna is sitting on the sofa, covered with two blankets. Nikolay and Nika are standing near the window. The stage is lightened up with the soft light of flour- lamp.  -You know, I haven’t understand wheat I have had back then. I …

My Body is… By Maria Muzalevskaya on November 17, 2018 My body is … the Russian flag. Despite the fact that I don’t approve Putin, my body is patriotic. The top part of the flag is white, it’s my common color of skin. Maybe, it’s a bit yellow and beige thanks to my makeup, but …

My Body = Aeon By Emma Kirakosyan on November 18, 2018 Cradles of loss Humming eternally Into my bones While armies of gleams And a thousand Suns Enter so solemnly Into my night. Oceans of crimson, Dripping with grace, Cover the prisons Of love and of hate. Chains on my hands But sovereign mind? Who …

Mountaintop Fingertips By Emma Kirakosyan on November 15, 2018 He closed his auburn eyes and leaned his head on the wooden headboard. His head was pounding so badly that he felt like a vein would explode somewhere inside. The white and creamy Fender was resting on his worn out jeans, his fingers caressing the strings. …

Migrant Pens By Ceren Turkkan on November 15, 2018 To my point of view, in Turkey, there are three differents cultures, The East, the West and the culture which is stuck between East and West. This is very inspiring for an artist. The country wears different disguises in the same land and I find it …