OLGA MARKELOVA 1. That night all the trees in the capital city set out on a crusade – the single-footed, the many-fingered, the curly-canopied and those stripped bald, those stunted and bark-bared, those wire-throttled, and those cemented up to their…
NADIA ANJUMAN No desire to open my mouth, what should I sing of . . . ? I, who am hated by life. no difference to sing or not to sing. Why should I talk of sweetness, when I feel…
GABRIEL TORRES CHALK 玄德 The strokes carved on the black walnut are the work of a fungus. I discovered the codification of the Universe in those images/symbols. It is the magic moment of the teamwork between the tree and the fungus.…
