I am the French boy who lost his mom in the theatre when some people opened fire for reasons unknown to both us and them. I am the teenager from Baghdad who lost his hand in a blast because he was out watching a game of football. I am the mother from Brussels who saw […]
x Read more xThe first time I truly felt the sun heating the Meditterenean sea in my skin, or at least the first time I can remember now, the water evaporated and rose into the blue sky. Our lucid dreams of finding partners in crime turned into white stunning clouds. We cooled each others fears down and became […]
x Read more xI was seven years old. We lived in a southern Mediterranean city in Turkey where it never snowed and there were almost no crimes, but my father would always pick me up from school. If you asked him why, he would say “Because why not?”. He was always the first one to come but […]
x Read more xSometimes I think about the ant I accidentally took to a rooftop bar from his home in my notebook last summer. Next morning lying in bed I wonder how it would be like to grow up as the only child of a single farmer father somewhere in the Irish countryside. I even think about what […]
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Painting by Catrin Walz Stein
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