Issue Contents

غيبوبة زمن

Poetry

شتاء و شمس بار / وحدة قاتلة و سكون فارغ / ساعة واقفة و حياة تمشي / -غربة بعيدة / أين أنا و كيف أنا و أين هو / أبحث عن عشيقي و أنيسي / رأيته مقبلا / بهدوء خانق…

فوبيا القهوة العربية

Fiction

رائحة القهوة العربية تملأ المكان، وكأن الهواء أصبح بدلاً من أن يحمل في ثناياه مختلف الغازات أصبح يحمل مختلف البهارات، رائحةُ الزعفران والقرنفل والهيل والقهوة خليطٌ عجيبٌ من الروائح التي ترتبط في الذاكرة بالطفولة، بنشأتنا في بيوتنا الحجازية القديمة.

When a Man Dies

When a Man Dies

Poetry

“We mourn in a single room. Beneath the dirty window, / a mother plays idly with the hand of her smallest child, / taking tiny palm between her own, & pushing down…”

The Month of Eating

The Month of Eating

Creative Non-Fiction

“Guests claimed their seats at the dining room table, shuffling around to sit beside one another and moving all the kids to one side of the table. As this happened, exclamations over the feast before us could be heard.”

Salon of Approval

Salon of Approval

Creative Non-Fiction

“They were always talking about destinations – losing a few pounds, getting a higher professional position, or perhaps trips to Paris, London, or Istanbul. They talked fearlessly about what they wanted…”

Hospitality in a Finjan

Hospitality in a Finjan

Creative Non-Fiction

“Hospitality has transformed into an unhealthy competition amongst the Saudi elite – an aggressive sport of one-upmanship in the form of lavish displays of table settings, exquisitely presented food, and pictures of these exclusive dinners”

Coffee in Air

Coffee in Air

Creative Non-Fiction

“I carefully sip the steaming drink, aware of the caffeine entering my bloodstream and aware of the fact that I am on an airplane, the thrill of traveling hits me. My favorites flights are outbound – exiting my country.”

An Acquired Taste

An Acquired Taste

Creative Non-Fiction

“It takes a while to get used to such brutal honesty in a world full of mujamalat and friendliness so superficial it borderlines the surreal. “Prozac nation,” my sister calls it.”

Why My Coffee is Green

Why My Coffee is Green

Fiction
by | Art by

“Hail pounded / in mortar & pestle, / pale powdered beans / tempered / with the barest heat. // I sip this brew / because dates marry / the taste of cardamom / & life is as simple / as this taste, this place.”