Posted by PrachyaReview | Oct 29, 2016 | Poetry |
Utopia Everything is different, in the horizon the Sun is crumbled The crumbles remained on the earth’s heart like triumphant arrows. We can’t recognize the colors through the wind caressing the memory We do not read poetry in...
Read MorePosted by PrachyaReview | Oct 29, 2016 | Story |
Aleksandra had taken her place alone at the bar. The cool November evening air filtered in innocently through the front door as well as the actors in a drama soon to unfold. The moon hung her lantern as I stepped beyond...
Read MorePosted by PrachyaReview | Oct 29, 2016 | Story |
It’s my fifth cup of coffee. I’ve been at work for barely an hour and my trips to the vending machine are already totaling more than the number of times my nagging boss has called me into his office. People...
Read MorePosted by PrachyaReview | Oct 29, 2016 | Interview |
In the very beginning of this year, I was first introduced with Ladan Osman’s poems through a Bangla translation done by Mahmud Alam Soikot. Those translations in my native language made me interested in reading more...
Read MorePosted by PrachyaReview | Oct 29, 2016 | Poetry, Translation |
THE WHEELS KEPT ON SPINNING AFTER THE BIKE’S FALL Everything you’ve heard Must be about me. When butchering, A different stroke for a different meat— This much I know. Must make sure the butchered flesh Doesn’t...
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