Out and Out
I marveled at my weightlessness and wondered why my father hadn’t stayed here in Spain when he’d first escaped Libya…where you could swim out and out and never sink. More
Treatment for a Story
"She curls up in bed. Pulls the dirty sheets over her and starts to doze...Starts to doze until the room pulls her awake, overpowers her with its clutter, its… More
The Voice of Silence
There were no voices to be heard, no words or fragments of sentences coming from the couple sitting there. Until I realized, with a quick glimpse, that they were… More
Three Strikes
I dropped from the skies or from heaven—whatever was closer at the moment—at the doors of the Kremlin library to research, and the clerk, an army major with a… More
Un jardin, en attendant: Two Translations
This week in the Guernica/PEN Flash series, we feature an original piece by Moroccan poet and autobiographical writer Abdellah Taïa, juxtaposed by two different translations by Chris Clarke and… More
The Tree of Life
The days went by. I spoke to him whenever I passed and each time he had increased in stature. He had much to say, and I found his words… More
In Love, Post-Apocalypse
For a long time, Nathalie’s outline has remained calcified in the bed with her ghost. The weak sun illuminates its contours and every morning I leave the sheets loose… More
Mortal Gods in the Greek Sea
We had no idea that a livid war was advancing on us like a sandstorm. We were committed to life, not death. We believed in the near, not the… More
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