Arrival Before the Rose Dream Ends (previously published by Wild Court）
He says he’ll arrive in Portland tomorrow. It’s his turn to pay — In the silence before the restaurant opens, he arrives early.
A self-serve hot pot, steam rising to fend off winter. The union of dead volcanoes and roses, perfect in his mind — a scene from an Italian art film, woven into the hum of lobby music.
A couple pick their ingredients. A spoon stirs the sauce, like jam stirred by love.
As dusk settles, the girl arrives and whispers something behind him. He answers, “It’s nothing.” He pays the bill this time and next time.
Months later, in a dream, the dead volcano erupts, swallowing the roses, swallowing his life.
The next morning, the news reports — a young man in a Portland apartment, kissed by death.
He lies on a bed of roses, silent as a dead volcano.
Confessions of Death（Previously published in Apocalypse Confidential）
I am a wealthy writer from a noble Kyoto family. In Japan, my fans call me: Swan.
I remember when pale moonlight illuminates the ashen stone. A woman drapes herself in a white kimono, adorned with strutting cranes and blooming pink sakura, gazing deeply at my figure.
She is my wife, an elegant swan too, who carries the spirit of Bushido.
I do not long to embrace death; I only wish to spread my wings and self-destruct beautifully, for redemption.
My consciousness submerges in the weight of original sin, rolling alone.
My family owns a villa during wartime, where cherry blossoms bloom in abundance. How shameful this is to the impoverished. Only death offers peace.
I want to cast my weightless body into the surging ocean together with her. I say, “As a mortal, I am so sorry. I do not deserve to be happy.”
Two swans step into the water, forsaking this ridiculous family. In the moment of fading, death is liberation.
A moment of silence, my heart at peace, with oceanic waves.
Within this vast wheel of destiny, I surrender to the hush of infinity.
We long for peace, and in the crushing of the great wheel, only the moment of suffocation beneath the water brings forth a profound and joyful illusion:
The setting sun, spring snow, floating chrysanthemums in my first chapter of life.
We die for the suffering, but for whom do the living live? We destroy ourselves for our own expectations, but who remembers the dead?
At last, we smile at death, at nothingness. Death becomes our final sanctuary, a respite from a world reeking of greed.
Like two delicate leaves, we softly fall into the ocean. Through the moon’s shadow, flowers’ darkened faces resemble death.
Interview with Yucheng Tao
You’re also a songwriter and a music student. Do you think your musical interests and knowledge inspire your poetry, or vice versa? Do you imagine your poems set to music?
Music’s rhythm gives me inspiration for the basic feelings in my poems. They feel like twin flames to me. I prefer to make independent work for my poetry and for my instrumental guitar music. I have had a lot of my instrumental work published by other magazines.
Since you’re an international student from China, is Mandarin your first language? What is the process like crafting poetry in a language other than your native language? Do you come up with a concept and structure in Mandarin first and then translate, or do you think purely in English for your poetry?
Yes, Mandarin is my first language. At the beginning, I tried very hard to write purely in English. Over time, it became more natural—but sometimes, inspiration still comes to me in fragments of Chinese. When that happens, I’ll translate or transform those images into English. Other times, the ideas arrive already in English. I think I now live between the two languages, and my poetry is shaped by both.
I notice a theme of death in your work, our complex relationship with the inevitability of death. Why and how do you think you’re drawn to write about death?
When I write about death, I’m really writing about consciousness, time, grief, and the fragility of perception. Life is destined to vanish in the cruel cycle of the seasons, so I feel a need to record my reflections on death—and everything bright that will one day be drowned: existence itself, which can be anything, even a voice within.
In the two pieces you sent for our July issue, your protagonists had the chance to enjoy lovely things in life: delicious food, fine clothing, moonlight, wealth, romantic love, although their enjoyment was short-lived. Many poets write about beauty in various forms. What do you consider beautiful and why, and what sorts of beauty are you drawn to in poetry?
I think beauty sometimes comes from fleeting moments—when I touch snow, rain, wind, or when the silent gods arrive with the night. My poems often explore the uncertainty of beauty, because everything can be beautiful in its own way.
How would you describe your poetic style, and has it changed over the years as you developed your craft?
My poetic style moves through darkness across beauty—and something beyond. Every day, I try to change something in my work: the technique, the form, the voice, and the feeling of the unknown.
What poets, or kinds of poetry inspire you? Do you consider your work part of any poetic tradition?
I love The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot, and I’m also drawn to Eastern forms that emphasize imagery, like haiku. Baudelaire, Akhmatova, and even the poetic language in Nabokov’s novels have all influenced me. I don’t often think in terms of tradition—I just read what I love, and follow where those poems lead me.
What are you working on now in your writing? What are your next steps?
I’m currently working on a series of poems centered around a character called the Skull-God—a light sci-fi exploration of human nature and emotion. I’ve written about five pieces so far and plan to continue expanding the series. Eventually, I hope to create a mini chapbook, somewhere between 12 to 20 pages.
Yucheng Tao’s poetry and fiction have appeared in a range of literary journals across the US, UK, and internationally. His recent work has been published by Wild Court (King’s College London), Cathexis Northwest Press, The Lake(UK), NonBinary Review (where he was also interviewed), and Red Ogre Review(UK). His writing has also featured in Waymark Literary Magazine, Apocalypse Confidential, The Arcanist, and others. He was named a semifinalist for the Winds of Asia Award by Kinsman Quarterly.
Everyday Language: Comparing Common Expressions in English and Uzbek
Berdiyorova Nargiza Mirsamad qizi
Uzbekistan State World Languages University
English First Faculty
Abstract: This article explores the use of everyday language expressions in English and Uzbek, focusing on their linguistic form, pragmatic function, and sociocultural significance. Through a comparative lens, it examines greetings, expressions of gratitude, apologies, everyday questions, and farewells in both languages. While English tends toward brevity and directness, Uzbek emphasizes social etiquette, respect, and relationship-building through more elaborate and culturally embedded expressions. The analysis draws attention to the interplay between language and culture in daily communication and highlights the importance of cultural competence in effective cross-cultural interaction.
Keywords: Common expressions; pragmatics; cross-cultural communication; Uzbek language; English language; politeness strategies; everyday language; linguistic comparison; sociolinguistics; cultural norms
Everyday language reflects not only the communicative functions of speech, but also the worldview, cultural background, and social values of a particular linguistic community. Common expressions—such as greetings, farewells, forms of gratitude, apologies, and basic conversational phrases—serve as key indicators of pragmatics in any language. In both English and Uzbek, such expressions function as essential tools for social interaction, yet they demonstrate distinct cultural and linguistic patterns. This paper presents a comparative analysis of everyday expressions in English and Uzbek, focusing on how language encodes politeness, social hierarchy, emotional tone, and context-specific variation.
In English, greetings are generally neutral in tone and highly standardized. Phrases such as “Hello,” “Hi,” and “Good morning” are commonly used across different social groups and are largely unaffected by age or social hierarchy. These expressions are concise and functionally effective. Time-based greetings such as “Good afternoon” or “Good evening” provide temporal context, and are especially common in formal settings.
In contrast, Uzbek greetings are deeply rooted in social norms and often reflect hierarchical relationships. The phrase “Assalomu alaykum” is widely used and carries religious and cultural connotations, originating from Arabic. It is typically responded to with “Va alaykum assalom,” reinforcing mutual respect. Furthermore, Uzbek greetings vary depending on age, familiarity, and context. For example, younger speakers are expected to initiate greetings and use respectful titles such as “aka” (older brother), “opa” (older sister), or “ustoz” (teacher).
Unlike English, where greetings can be brief and informal, Uzbek speakers often engage in extended greeting rituals that include inquiries about health, family, and well-being, such as “Yaxshimisiz?”, “Qalaysiz?”, or “Tinchlikmi?” These expressions indicate concern and build social rapport.
In English, the most common ways to express gratitude include “Thank you,” “Thanks,” and “Thanks a lot.” These expressions are generally used in both formal and informal situations. Politeness strategies in English often involve tone and intonation, as well as the addition of modifiers such as “very much” or “indeed” for emphasis.
Uzbek expressions of gratitude also range from neutral to emphatic. The word “Rahmat” is most commonly used in daily interaction, while “Katta rahmat” (great thanks) and “Yuragingizdan joy bersin” (may your heart be rewarded) reflect higher levels of appreciation and cultural richness. Additionally, the Uzbek language frequently includes socially oriented responses to gratitude, such as “Arzimaydi” (it’s nothing) or “Hech narsa emas” (not at all), emphasizing humility and reciprocity.
This contrasts with English, where responses to gratitude are usually simple—“You’re welcome,” “No problem,” or “Anytime.” In Uzbek, the social act of thanking and responding is more ceremonious, often accompanied by body language such as hand gestures or slight bows.
Apologizing in English often involves the use of phrases such as “Sorry,” “I’m sorry,” or “I apologize.” These expressions are typically used to acknowledge a mistake, express sympathy, or respond to unintentional harm. Depending on the severity of the situation, English speakers may strengthen the apology with additions like “I’m terribly sorry” or “Please accept my apologies.”
In Uzbek, apologies are expressed through words like “Kechirasiz,” “Uzr so‘rayman,” or “Kechirib qo‘ying.” These phrases are chosen carefully depending on the speaker’s relationship to the listener. The act of apologizing in Uzbek also often requires nonverbal reinforcement—such as a hand over the heart or a slightly bowed posture—which demonstrates sincerity and respect.
Notably, the choice of expression in Uzbek can be influenced by status and age. For instance, “Uzr” might be deemed too formal among close peers but is expected in professional or elder-oriented discourse. The speech act of apology in Uzbek society is more than linguistic; it carries moral and social implications.
In English, everyday conversation is typically initiated with simple questions such as “How are you?”, “What’s your name?”, or “Where are you from?” These questions are formulaic but perform key pragmatic functions such as initiating dialogue, maintaining politeness, or showing interest.
In Uzbek, equivalent expressions include “Qalaysiz?”, “Ismingiz nima?”, and “Qayerdansiz?” However, Uzbek interactional style tends to be more relational. For example, instead of a simple “How are you?”, Uzbek speakers may ask, “Tinchlikmi?”, “Ishlaringiz qalay?”, or even inquire about one’s family and relatives, e.g., “Uyda hamma sog‘-salomatmi?” These culturally embedded questions not only fulfill a communicative purpose but also signal empathy and social solidarity.
Furthermore, the role of pronouns and polite address terms is crucial in Uzbek everyday questions. While English uses “you” universally, Uzbek distinguishes between “sen” (informal) and “siz” (formal), making the choice of pronoun socially significant.
Parting expressions in English include “Goodbye,” “See you later,” “Take care,” or “Have a nice day.” These expressions can range from formal to informal and are often quick and to the point.
In Uzbek, farewell expressions—though sometimes as succinct as their English counterparts—frequently incorporate elements of goodwill, care, and emotional resonance. Common phrases such as “Xayr” (Goodbye) and “Ko‘rishguncha” (See you) are often accompanied by additional expressions like “Omad sizga” (Good luck to you), “Yaxshi boring” (Have a safe trip), or “Omon bo‘ling” (Stay safe), particularly when addressing elders or expressing sincere parting wishes. These phrases not only convey the act of departure but also reflect deeper cultural values tied to interpersonal connection, respect, and mutual well-being. The phrase “Omon bo‘ling,” for instance, carries implicit spiritual and emotional undertones, functioning almost as a benediction.
This comparative analysis underscores that although English and Uzbek everyday expressions often serve analogous communicative purposes—such as greetings, farewells, or polite exchanges—they diverge markedly in terms of linguistic form, frequency of use, and sociocultural embeddedness. English tends to favor brevity, directness, and functional neutrality in casual conversation. In contrast, Uzbek everyday discourse is typically marked by a heightened sense of formality, affective nuance, and social ritual. These tendencies are further enriched by culturally specific metaphors, honorifics, and nonverbal cues such as gesture and tone.
For language learners, translators, and intercultural communicators, recognizing and internalizing these subtle yet meaningful differences is essential for achieving pragmatic competence. It allows for more authentic engagement and helps avoid misinterpretation or unintentional impoliteness. Ultimately, everyday language—despite its apparent simplicity—functions as a mirror of a community’s cultural values, relational norms, and collective identity. As such, its study offers valuable insight into the deeper socio-pragmatic fabric of communication across linguistic boundaries.
References
1. Brown, P., & Levinson, S. C. (1987). Politeness: Some universals in language usage. Cambridge University Press.
2. Crystal, D. (2003). The Cambridge Encyclopedia of the English Language (2nd ed.). Cambridge University Press
3. Yusupova, D. M. (2017). “Pragmatik ifoda vositalarining tarjima jarayonidagi lisoniy va madaniy jihatlari.” Filologiya Masalalari, 2(68), 45–49.
4. Wierzbicka, A. (2003). Cross-cultural pragmatics: The semantics of human interaction (2nd ed.). Mouton de Gruyter.
5. Karimov, A. A. (2020). “O‘zbek tilida salomlashish va xayrlashishning madaniy-ilmiy asoslari.” Til va Adabiyot, 3(103), 70–76.
6. Thomas, J. (1995). Meaning in Interaction: An Introduction to Pragmatics. Longman.
7. Turaev, B. (2019). “O‘zbek tilida minnatdorchilik va uzr so‘rash uslublari: Pragmalingvistik tahlil.” O‘zbek Tili va Adabiyoti, 5(113), 35–40.
My oldest friend, my best friend when I was growing up in Queens, now lives in Frankfurt.
The last time we saw each other, nearly a decade ago, we met for lunch at a restaurant on the corner of 39th and Madison. She had kept her childhood apartment in Kew Gardens and was back for a visit.
We grew up together, on the same floor of a building, racing in our socks down the hall between our apartments. Tall and blond, she wore clothes that no one else did and in a way that made her look unique.
Other kids picked on her for it, but for me it had the opposite effect. I wished her clothes were mine. When I took guitar lessons at our school on Saturday mornings, her dad enrolled her, too, and we shared my father’s guitar. I took up ballet, and there she was in Mildred Roger’s Dance Studio on Lefferts Boulevard, doing pliés by my side.
Her parents were European, and she was trilingual. I admired her for her sophistication, yet it was her silliness that matched my own. We made each other laugh so hard that no sound came out of our mouths. I didn’t have that with anyone else.
I don’t remember our first meeting: She was always in my life. I loved her dad’s Italian cooking; she loved the lebne and pita my mother prepared.
I was astonished by the orderliness of her home, and she thrived on the constant activity in mine. I loved how she spoke in Italian with her hands, how different she became when she spoke German. How easy she was to be with all the time.
How the more myself I was, the more she seemed to adore me. I felt such love, like we belonged with each other.
When we were older, we both found jobs in midtown Manhattan. One day I suggested we call in sick. I didn’t have to convince her: “Let’s go to Jones Beach!” she said. We ran in and out of the waves, taking pictures of each other in action, and later we sat back to back on a towel, me in a pink polka-dot Fiorucci sundress, so happy that we had this day to ourselves instead of being at our jobs.
Occasionally, we would meet for a quick lunch at the rooftop dining area of a two-story building on Third and 40th, basking in the sun, eating our sandwiches, catching up. “Can you believe we’ve known each other so long?” she would say. “I would be bonkers without you.” And I felt the same. I would return to my office feeling as if I’d had a shot of adrenaline, revived, fresh.
Time passed, and I married and had two sons; she remained single. I left Queens for the suburbs. Life was busy, and we saw each other less frequently, but I always looked forward to being with her again. I still yearned for those moments where we lost ourselves in laughter, even if it was only once or twice a year.
Just before she moved to Frankfurt, we went to see the second “Sex and the City” movie at the Ziegfeld. It was a sea of women, groups of besties, and I was glad she was mine, sitting there beside me. Over dinner at Il Circo, where she knew the owner, I gave her a present, a ring, for her 45th birthday. She had complimented mine, so I got her the same.
The stone looked like a solitary diamond, but it was fake. I watched intently, waiting for her reaction. “Oh my god, I love this!” she said, and I bounced in my shoes with excitement as she put it on. We lay our hands side by side. “This is perfect for the subway,” she said, and then she swept her bangs out of her face with her ringed hand for effect, her green eyes flashing at me.
Shortly after that, she was no longer a New Yorker.Of course I knew our friendship would change with her move to Europe. But she would have her place in Queens, and I could visit her in Germany, couldn’t I?
When I thought about it, many of my friends had moved out of the city – Michele to Mexico, Belinda to California, Christine to Seattle, Leslye to her country house upstate. I kept in touch with all of them; sometimes we became closer over the years.Up until that lunch on Madison, I hadn’t seen her for a while.
In anticipation of our meeting, I made my day free for her. I took the afternoon off from work. I arranged for my teenage boys to be picked up from school. I dressed with care, more care than usual. I made sure to wear our ring, and I twirled it around my finger.I stood outside the restaurant and saw her approaching, ever so punctual. She was walking down Madison, wearing a longish cotton striped dress and sneakers, a big bag on her shoulder, waving at me. When our eyes caught each other’s, I saw her smile, and I felt my own, so glad to see her.
Right away we fell into the old rhythm of our conversations. We laughed with little provocation and with an abandon I didn’t know was available to me anymore. In her open mouth, I saw that her tooth had become a little snaggled: a snaggletooth.
“What the heck?” I said. “I know,” she said. “I should get it fixed.” “How is your mom?” I asked. “Good.” When I asked her about her friends in Germany, she said, “Aw Les, you know you are my best friend!”“Do you ever hear from Michael?” I said.
She had dated Mike D. from the Beastie Boys for two years. “No, but I hear that he is happily married in California.”
“How’s your job?” I continued and then, before she could answer, “Oh, I just finished a book you would love: ‘The Nazi Officer’s Wife.’”“Shhhhh. Don’t say ‘Nazi,’” she said.
I didn’t understand.“It’s illegal to say it in Germany,” she explained.
“What fucked up country are you living in? Do you have any Jewish friends there, I hope?”
Not one, she told me.
And then, “There’s a great Lebanese restaurant in Frankfurt that I love.”“Do you remember when we each bought the same exact scarf from Bendel’s without knowing it?” she said. “Uncanny,” I said, and we laughed again.
After lunch she said she was heading uptown. “I’ll walk with you,” I said. I didn’t consider that she might not want me to come along.
The building next to Grand Central had been razed to the ground, and the station stood in all its glory, magnificent, like it was supposed to have looked 100 years ago. “Here,” she said, “let’s take a selfie.” And on the corner of 42nd and Madison, with the station in the background, we huddled close, trying to fit in the frame. We fumbled with the phone and the angle and getting out of people’s way.
In the end, when we finally snapped the photo, we were laughing so hard you could almost hear the picture. Maybe she hoped I would leave after that, get on a train to go home to Westchester, but that didn’t occur to me then.We walked a little more, sat on a bench in front of Barnes & Noble on Fifth and 45th. I wanted to see if they had the book about the Nazi officer’s wife.
When she said she was going to Anthropologie, there was something about her demeanor that told me I wasn’t invited. She took a cigarette from her purse and lit it. She didn’t normally smoke in front of me; it was something I knew she did in secret. But now she sat smoking brazenly, and I noticed she wasn’t wearing the ring I got her.
I said, “What are you looking for at Anthro?”
“Nothing in particular. I just have some things to do.” She stubbed her cigarette out on the pavement, beneath the twisting toe of her white sneaker, and got up to kiss me goodbye. She crossed Fifth Avenue before the light changed. I turned and headed back downtown to Grand Central to catch my train, feeling like I had a crush on a boy who wasn’t interested in me and whose cues I had misread.
I had been deliriously happy, and suddenly I wasn’t. With each step I became more and more deflated. I felt exhausted, as if my life, which I thought was a good one, was missing something vital, a color maybe, like electric blue. I wished I could have spent the day with her, doing nothing, walking in the city, stopping into shops we liked, like we used to do when we were young.
On the train, I looked at the picture we had just taken. I examined her tooth that was sticking out in a funny angle and realized that my bottom teeth weren’t so great either. They had shifted into the beginning of a jumble.It was still early.
I stopped at the grocery store on my way home to buy things to make dinner. I ran into a friend, another mom, in the frozen aisle. We had the usual conversation – kids, varsity soccer, the glorious weather, blah blah blah. “Don’t forget tennis tomorrow and Mother’s Day brunch at the club,” she said over her shoulder.
When I got home, I took off the ring. I was alone, and no one needed me for the moment. I drove into town and poked my head in at the local orthodontist, the one who had put braces on my boys. “Can you fix my teeth?” I asked. “Sure,” he said. “Hop in the chair and let’s take a look.”
Hyperglycemia: Pathophysiological Causes, Clinical Consequences, and Laboratory Diagnosis
Author: Davlatyorova Iqbol Alisher qizi
Institution: Tashkent Medical Academy, Urganch Branch – Advanced Training in Clinical Laboratory Diagnostics
Abstract
Hyperglycemia is a clinical and laboratory sign of many systemic metabolic disorders. This article aims to investigate the underlying causes, short- and long-term consequences, and the role of clinical laboratory diagnosis in the early detection and management of hyperglycemia. Key laboratory tests such as fasting glucose, OGTT, HbA1c, and their interpretation in different clinical settings are discussed.
1. Introduction
Glucose is the primary energy source for most cells in the human body. Its level in blood is tightly controlled by a complex hormonal system, mainly insulin. Hyperglycemia refers to an abnormally high concentration of glucose in the blood, typically above 7.0 mmol/L when fasting, and may signal the presence of diabetes mellitus or other endocrine or stress-related disorders.
2. Pathophysiological Mechanisms of Hyperglycemia
Hyperglycemia may result from different mechanisms: decreased insulin production, increased resistance to insulin at the cellular level, or excessive hepatic glucose output. Type 1 diabetes mellitus is caused by autoimmune destruction of pancreatic beta-cells, while type 2 is linked to peripheral insulin resistance. Temporary hyperglycemia can also occur during severe infections, trauma, myocardial infarction, or treatment with corticosteroids.
3. Clinical Manifestations and Complications
Early symptoms of hyperglycemia include polyuria, polydipsia, fatigue, blurred vision, and weight loss. Chronic untreated hyperglycemia leads to serious complications such as nephropathy, retinopathy, peripheral neuropathy, and cardiovascular disease. Acute decompensation may present as diabetic ketoacidosis (DKA) or hyperosmolar hyperglycemic state (HHS).
4. Laboratory Diagnosis of Hyperglycemia
Laboratory testing is the cornerstone of diagnosing hyperglycemia. Commonly used tests include:
– Random Blood Glucose: ≥11.1 mmol/L in symptomatic patients.
5. Preanalytical and Analytical Considerations
Proper sample collection (venous plasma, fasting state), avoidance of glycolysis by timely processing, and accurate calibration of analyzers are essential for valid glucose results. Point-of-care testing (glucometers) is useful for self-monitoring, but should not replace lab-based tests for diagnosis.
6. Laboratory Role in Monitoring and Prevention
Laboratory follow-up is key in managing patients with diabetes. Periodic HbA1c testing, renal function tests (creatinine, urine albumin), and lipid profile help prevent complications. Mass screening programs in high-risk populations (obese, hypertensive, family history) are recommended.
7. Conclusion
Hyperglycemia is a complex metabolic condition that requires timely and accurate laboratory diagnosis. Understanding the laboratory parameters, their clinical interpretation, and integration into patient care pathways can significantly reduce the disease burden and improve health outcomes.
Mais je ne m’appuie pas sur ma plaie pour tes baisers.
Je suis l’ascète façonné loin de ton jeûne.
Tu mérites les carillons de tes cloches.
Ensemble, nous nous élevions par les lettres,
Nous éloignant du vertige des miroirs
Vers les hymnes des cercles bohèmes.
Rabbin, je suis, dans la synagogue de tes éclats,
Prêchant parfois, priant ton Talmud.
Je me perds dans tes péchés comme un navire
Englouti par les soupirs de tes prières.
Nulle place pour l’existence pourpre
Dans les replis charbonnés de tes paupières.
Les fautes des odes me portent, îlot après îlot,
Sur les croix tracées par tes mystères.
Tu fus pour moi une voix,
Épanouie en chorales de tes symphobies..
Alors, ravive en moi une flamme et laisse-moi
Compter sept chiffres
Qui me portent en désir,
Pour les rendre ensuite
Morts ou renaissants dans tes écrits.
And I only suffer on the threshold of abandonment. Pains appear to me patiently, But I do not lean on my wound for your kisses. I am the ascetic fashioned far from your fasting. You deserve the chimes of your bells.
Together, we rose through letters, Faring from the vertigo of mirrors Toward the hymns of bohemian circles. Rabbi, I am, in the synagogue of your splendor, Preaching sometimes, praying your Talmud.
I lose myself in your sins like a ship Swallowed by the sighs of your prayers. No place for purple existence In the charred folds of your eyelids. The faults of the odes carry me, island after island, To the crosses traced by your mysteries.
You were a voice for me, Blossoming in the chorus of your symphobias. So, rekindle a flame in me and let me Count seven numbers That carry me with desire, To then make them Dead or reborn in your writings.
Bibliographie
Hassane Ajbouh is a Moroccan writer, critic, and creative writer from Safrou, currently residing in Ibn Ahmed. He holds a degree in Arabic Literature, specializing in Philosophy, and is a educational administrator and high school principal in the Casablanca-Settat region.
His published works include:
– A joint poetry collection “Shado in Love and Life” published by the University of Moroccan Creators.
– A joint short story collection “Marafie” published by the Iraqi magazine Basriatha.
– A joint book “Stories Crossing Continents” published by Dar Scribayb in 2023.
He has also published critical studies on novels and short stories in local and Arab newspapers.
Ajbouh is currently working on several projects, including a poetry collection and a short story collection.
He holds several positions, including:
– Cultural Advisor to the World Organization for Creativity for Peace (London – Morocco branch)
– Editor-in-Chief of Sefrou Cultural Magazine
– Editor-in-Chief of Iqaa’ Al-Adab magazine
– Member of the Board of Directors of several groups, forums, and magazines
– Designer and judge for various literary competitions
His works have been published in numerous national, Arab, and international newspapers and magazines.
