Nour Kassem (Woods), Prominent Young Egyptian Painter
I am proud to present in this internationally appreciated magazine the very special, young, prominent Egyptian painter Nour Kassem (Woods).
Nour says about herself: “I am a fast kinetic person, who wants to work, do activities, and most importantly, create.” The common opinion is that an artist must be focused on a specific artistic sector to give the best. This is not always the case and it is not so in the case of Nour who lives to dance, paint, and even golf, drawing from each of these activities creative, joyful and extremely professional energy with which she nourishes these activities. So Nour does not remain seated or standing to paint but wins trophies dancing tango and salsa and winning golf tournaments. Then she returns to painting, often immersed in the nature and beauty of El Gouna, a wonderful lagoon city on the Red Sea founded only a few decades ago by entrepreneurs Naguib and Samih Sawiris, the creator of El-Gouna International Film Festival (Cinema for Humanity) directed by Marianne Khouri, granddaughter of the legendary film director Youssef Chahine.
In fact Nour has her first collective exhibition in 2014 right in EL Gouna at TUBerlin / German University. Theme: By Diversified Gouna Artists. Then her first solo art exhibition was also in El-Gouna in 2015 at the luxurious Ocean View Hotel with the congratulations of Mr. Samih Sawiris. Other big “solos“ of Nour were in 2017 and 2022 at the Nile Art Gallery in Cairo.
Nour lives in Cairo, where she has her studio in Heliopolis, but at the moment Nour, with her mother the beautiful Mrs. Mona Safey, is again in El Gouna to paint, where the dialogues of the films presented at El Gouna International FF still echo. But there is also a cinema debut for Nour! A color version and the other in black and white about the famous director Youssef Chahine will appear in the USA-Italian Art Doc Thriller: “Ancient Taste of Death” directed by the Italian director Antonello Altamura about the Hollywood Golden Age and ancient Egypt, with the Egyptian star Wael El-Ouni. Nour, among her 400 paintings, has a series of paintings inspired by Egyptian superstars like Omar Sherif. Probably Nour’s art will be exhibited along the red carpet walk of the sumptuous palace of El Gouna International Film Festival in 2025. Some SF art galleries have expressed strong interest in Nour, whose painting meets the super lively and colorful style of the city of the magical Golden Gate Bridge.
Village morning
Morning, the spring's canopy shutter,
The heart is ready for the feeling of purity.
Simple people, simple people,
The bag turns the black heart into colors.
I'm satisfied with sincere tunes today,
The sound of the swallow decorates my heart.
Walking in the city streets, I found out that
The value of such stones is like a stone.
By a rightful mistake of fate,
I'm in love with basil today.
That another place is like this,
Majnuntol, you didn't say, why didn't you say.
My magical world with moving walls,
The rooster crows in the early morning.
After all, you are honest, you are wonderful,
The rustling of trees, the dawn of my village!
Nilufar Anvarova, daughter of Ulugbek: born in 2011 in Chimyon town, Fergana district. He initially studied at 31 schools, and since September 2023 he is a student of the 8th grade of the creative school named after Erkin Vahidov in the city of Marģilon. His creative works "Human rights in the eyes of children", "The swallow that chased my imagination", "Sizdek sultan yòq" were published in the newspaper "Tong styziri" and the poems "Ha, men oshà..." and "Uzbek's dish" were published in the newspaper "Yangiyer Tongi". published. In addition, creative samples were published in the prestigious "Raven cage" of Germany and "Kenya times" magazine of Kenya. Currently, he has many certificates, diplomas and international certificates. Our poet is active and known to the world for her creative works in anthologies that collect the creative works of various artists! One of his future goals is to win the "Zulfiya" award!
I stood up from my cubicle and shouted, “Michael! Your report is due today!” A red-faced Michael stood up and piped back, “I thought Gurinder was working on it! To which the sheepish turbaned Sikh Gurinder responded, “Almost done Alana!”.
You see, I’m Alana, a native of Guatemala. My uncle had escaped with me in 2010 during the drug fights with the government, leaving my mother and father behind.
Michael, Gurinder and I, besides being co-workers were good friends. Michael swung by and said, “Come on ninita (little girl), let’s break for lunch!” To which I responded, “OK, big guy!” Our office was on the 14th floor of a high rise building in Manhattan, so the three of us took the elevator down to the ground floor. As we walked out the hallway Gurinder suggested, “Hi guys, I feel like a taco. Can we go to this nice Taqueria around the corner?”
“Gurinder, how come you like tacos?”, I asked. Gurinder leaned sideways, straightened his turban and said waving his arms, “You know it tastes like Indian food a little, plus I love the refried beans!”
Sitting down, together at the restaurant I looked at us and remarked, “You know, we have three nationalities here – Irish, Indian and Guatemalan. This table is like a mini–United Nations!”. To which Michael smiled with his toothy smile and replied, “Yeah, only in America. This place is like a melting pot with people from all over the world.”
We were an engineering company and mid-afternoon, Gurinder got his report finished for the boss, and judging from the smile on the boss’s face through his window office, it seems like he had done a good job. He stopped by at my cubicle and wiped his brow like he was wiping off a lot of sweat and said, “Whew, Alana, I was worried about that one!” To which I responded, “Don’t worry, you’re a good engineer! If only you didn’t dilly dally and wait till the deadline to finish it.” To which he gave his sheepish smile and retorted, “I know, I need a tough gal like you to remind me!”
It was Friday and at the end of the day, Michael swung by and said to Gurinder and I, “Hi guys, my birthday is on Sunday, but I am celebrating it at my apartment with a dance party tonight. Can you guys come?” My eyes were wide, “Michael! Your birthday was coming up and you didn’t tell us?” To which he replied, “It’s not a big deal – just one more joyous revolution around the sun!” Trust Michael to give everything a planetary twist. To which Gurinder and I replied, “We’ll be there!
That was quite an evening! Gurinder did his very energetic Bhangra dance, jumping up and down and round and round, while shaking his shoulders and pointing his fingers. It was a fun dance and a good cardio workout. Then Michael walked over to me and asked me if I would like to try some ballroom dancing. “Who me? I’ve never done it in my life!”, I replied. He said, “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you”. So, he taught me how to do the fox-trot dance – that was not too tough, but I was nervous. He then put on some slower music, and we did some fox-trot – it was easier than I thought. Gosh, he was so gentle and romantic – different from the Michael I had known till then. As he swung me around in his arms, I felt an affection for him that I had not felt before. Anyway, we cut cake for his birthday and all the folks cheered and sang the happy birthday song. I was tired by then and decided to take off. As I went to sleep that night, I thought it great to have such good friends that are fun and considerate!
I had just had coffee that morning and got a call from my mother. I was barely awake and blurted out, “Mama, why are you calling me so early?” But she was not thrown off by that, and said affectionately to me, “Alana dear, we miss you. Things have improved where we are now, and Papa is doing better financially. Can you come back now and be with us? There are job opportunities now that have opened up.” My father spoke up in the background, “The government of Guatemala has begun to take climate change seriously and develop some better commitments as per the Paris Agreement, but they need good, educated people. You’ve always complained about climate change issues – now it’s a good time to come and join their effort!”
As the only child, I told them I would think about it, or better yet, come back for a visit to Guatemala and then decide. I thought and I thought, and I thought – I would miss my friends and work in New York, But maybe I could catch up on that later. Right now, my family was calling, and I always wanted to help with some of the things my dad talked about. Why not give it a try?
On Monday, as I sat in our work lunchroom with Michael, Gurinder, and Alicia (another of our co-workers) I turned to them and said, “Hi guys my family wants me go back to Guatemala and help them and take up some work on environmental issues”. Michael was shaken and the look on his face was one of dismay. Gurinder put his face between his hands.
“OK guys, I know I will miss you big time, but we can stay in touch and keep visiting?”
Michael was the first to speak, “Alana, you will leave a big hole here at work and our friendships. But it if you want to do it, you should do it”. Gurinder said, “That’s how I feel too Alana, but I’ve always admired your guts and so gal, go and do it! We’ll support you from here!”. Later my boss was taken aback, but he said,” Hello Alana, if that’s what you want to do then go for it! If business stays good, we’ll always have a position for you.”
So, I hugged my friends and before I knew it, I was on a flight to Guatemala City. As the plane took off, I had mixed feelings. I would really miss Michael, Gurinder and Alicia. But I was looking forward to seeing my parents and spending some time with them, while helping with stuff I was passionate about. Guatemala City is one of the biggest cities in Central America and it looked great as I looked out of the window as we approached for a landing. “We will be landing at Guatemala City in five minutes.”, bawled out the flight attendant in English and then Spanish. Past immigration, my face lit up as I saw my father, Esteban. “Papa, I’m so happy to see you.” I gave him a big hug! Gosh, how much I had missed him. “My little Alana. Me too. Como estas (How are you)?”“I’m good Papa” I replied. Boy had he aged – there were so many more wrinkles on his face, and he had tanned. We drove up north to the centrally located city of San Cristobal Verapaz, and then up to the village of Queja up in the hills where Papa had moved after retirement. Papa had built this nice villa up next to the village after retirement, as he said he wanted to escape the hustle and bustle of crowded cities. Standing in the doorway was my mother Brisa, all smiles. I ran up the walkway, feeling like a little girl and gave her a big hug. “Mami, I missed you. It’s so good to be back with you”, I said. “So good to have you back my chica (little girl)!” Boy did she get busy cooking my favorite dishes. My favorite was Kak’ik, traditional Mayan turkey soup with spices like coriander, achiote, and chili peppers.
As I looked around, I was lucky to land a job with the Guatemalan Coordinating Agency for Disaster Reduction (CONRED), which was the government agency for dealing with natural disasters and aimed to prepare before, respond better during and do better reconstruction after such disasters. This only made a lot of sense as climate change was making the climate related disasters worse every year, and Guatemala had both a high probability of such disasters and for many reasons was more vulnerable which increased the risks of damage.
It was so different switching from working in English to working in Spanish (Espaniol), but my language skills came back. Also, my English-speaking skills helped our communications with United Nations agencies, especially UNDRR, the global UN disaster risk reduction agency. My boss was a paunchy amiable man named Kaapo (which meant bravest man). He was always dressed well in a suit and tie, but he usually discarded the coat and tie when it was hot and muggy. He looked me in the eye and said, “It is hurricanes that need the most attention, Alana, and so please help improve the plans we have in place”.
It was September and hurricane season was fast approaching and so I got cracking. The local expert warned me, “It’s the coastal areas that suffer from high wind speeds and storm surges, but it’s the hilly areas that get the most rain and suffer from flooding, landslides and mudslides. I started looking around the country and realized that the coastal areas to the east were prone to Atlantic hurricanes and the communities need to be made resilient for high winds (roofs and structures) and high-water surges (get the utilities to upper floors and have upper floors to escape to).
Back at the house, sleeping here was so different from that at my New York apartment.
Windows open and sounds of the forest. I was lying awake tossing and turning, and I was surprised I was thinking so much about Michael. I had felt alive in his arms while dancing and had felt a great affection for him.
So, I wasn’t surprised that I was on the phone calling him next morning. “Michael, how are you? How are things at work?”
“Alana, now that’s a pleasant surprise! We miss you. How are you?”
“I’m good. You know it’s been so different here from New York. I’m enjoying it with Mami and Papa and enjoying my work with CONRED too. I miss you too. I think you should take a vacation and come visit us – it’s so scenic and beautiful here!”
“Let me talk to the boss and see what I can manage. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know. Bye and miss you my dear”.
I felt exhilarated by that. He had not only agreed to visit but had also called me “my dear”. For me it was Whoopee and I jumped up and down in my room.
Next day, from my room I could see the nice town of San Cristobal Verapaz down below and since I was working from home, I could see the hustle and bustle. Suddenly my cell phone rang, and it was Michael!! “Hi Alana, my boss agreed to let me have a vacation for a couple of weeks. Will let you know my itinerary. I’m looking forward to seeing you!”
“That’s just super Michael. I’ll reserve a hotel for you here and pick you up at Guatemala City airport”. I was surprised that my heart was throbbing so much. What did he mean to me?
It was late October 2020. Michael stepped out of the terminal, and I was so happy to see him. We hugged and he said, “Como estas senora? (How are you madam?)”.
“Wow, Michael, you learned some Spanish!” I was beaming.
“Well, my dear, I knew I will need it, so I learned a little bit” He smiled.
We got quickly into the car as we could not wait too long at the curb, and we headed up north. He checked into the hotel, and I gave him and the hotel staff instructions on food and other things he may need.
“I’m sooo happy you are here Michael. Your US cell phone works here. I have a full day of sight-seeing for you tomorrow. I’ll come and pick you up at 8 in the morning.” We hugged and I took off.
Next morning, I was full of anticipation, and I wore a nice floral dress. When he stepped out of the hotel in a t-shirt and shorts, he looked so handsome! My heart missed a beat.
“I have a full day of sight-seeing for you dear Michael – a beautiful lake Chicoj and then a visit to a nice coffee growing location. Is that OK?”. “Sure, you’re the expert – let’s roll”, he smiled.
I was day to remember. We went to the coffee growing place first and saw how they grow coffee using mainly organic and sustainable practices. It was a good walk together. I then took him to a scenic lake, and we started to walk around. I must have walked ahead and then suddenly turned around and ran into him. I flushed and said, “I’m sorry Michael!”. “No need to be sorry, Alana” and he smiled. That broke the ice between us, and he reached out and held my hand and hugged me – gosh, he was so handsome. He reached out and held my face in one of his hands and kissed me. My whole body shook with pleasure. That was how we spent the rest of the day, holding each other and kissing deeply and romantically the rest of the day as we walked around the lake. Each time he would turn around and give me a deep kiss and I was getting weak with pleasure. This was too good to be true!
We had dinner back at the hotel, enjoying some good wine and some of the local dishes! Then Michael asked me, “Hi girl, I wanted to show you some photos of Gurinder and I. You want to come up to my room?”. I nodded yes and we headed up to his room. I was nervous as hell and wondering if I was doing the right thing.
We sat down together on the sofa, and he opened up his laptop and began to show me his recent photos with Gurinder. That Sikh was looking so great and full of smiles and then with some silly selfies – boy, I missed him as he had been such a good friend – kind beyond words. Michael set the laptop aside and then turned to me and gave me the most romantic deep kiss I had ever experienced. I embraced him and said, “Ooooh Michael, I am so happy you are here and that you like me so much!”. I was full of anticipation when he lifted me up and put me down on the bed and we quickly undressed and embraced and hugged and kissed. I had expected him to be rough, and so I couldn’t believe how gentle and loving he was as he kissed me fondly all over and I was in pure delight. I then kissed him back in turn all over and he groaned and responded.
He then entered me, and we were locked in a tight embrace, kissing and making love like you would not believe. I could not have imagined that it could be so good. My whole body and soul responded, and I then exploded and shook holding him tightly in me. We then lay with each other in each other’s arms for quite some time. He went up on his elbows over me, and smiled and said, “That was the best thing that has happened in my life my dear. I think I’ve fallen in love with you!” I smiled and looked into is eyes and replied,” Yeah, that was too good to be true. I love you too”. And so began our romance.
The next day I took Michael up to visit my parents. My father took one look at him and smiled, and my mother was bubbly. I thanked my stars that they like Micheal. My father said he would introduce Michael to some interesting people in town on San Cristobal Verapaz. So, that is what he did the next day.
That was good as I got really busy with my work. Besides the disaster preparedness activities, I got to see and know about things related to climate change – people and organizations were building solar systems, making electricity greener, building water harvesting structures to store and reuse rainwater, and learning and practicing organic agriculture that increased the carbon in the soil.
Michael was spending time with my parents and enjoying the hills. My boss sent me off to Guatemala City for a meeting that was doing the planning for hurricane season which this year (2020) was one of the most active ones. I was sitting in a meeting room when we got the news that hurricane Eta was approaching in the Caribbean. So the focus shifted from general planning to preparations for Eta. We quickly had local and national meetings to ask all communities to prepare to move and have emergency supplies as needed. We ordered evacuations from some of the coastal areas as they would be hit by storm surges and heavy flooding.
I called and talked to my parents and asked them to be alert and safe. I called Michael and he said he had decided to move and stay with my parents up at their villa as it may be safer than in town that was known for flash flooding.
The warmer than normal waters of the Gulf of Mexico increased the energy of Eta, so that by the time it hit us it was a Category 4 hurricane. Our staff and I hunkered down in a safe hotel a little inland and prepared for the storm. It hit us hard. It was knocking down trees, making roofs fly and the heavy rains were causing flooding. Communication towers were getting knocked out so phone lines were down.
We received word through emergency satellite communications that there was very heavy rain in the area of San Cristobal Verapaz. Worse, it was reported that there were heavy mudslides and landslides in the hills around. Oh no! That was bad news, and I became really worried for my parents and Michael. There was no phone service and there was no way to reach them by phone.
The next day, after the storm had died down, I informed my boss and started driving. There was destruction everywhere and I was lucky that the highways were still clear, and roads were not damaged. When I reached the city near my folks and started to drive up to my parent’s villa, I was blocked by emergency workers as the road was closed due to landslides. So, I parked by the roadside and got out of my car. That’s when my emergency satellite phone gave me the worst news of all. My boss informed me that they had received news that the village of Queja (where my folks lived) was buried in rivers of mud and that emergency workers were trying to dig up bodies from the landslide.
I was absolutely horrified. I sat in my car and put my head between my hands and cried like I had never done before. Dear God, what had I done to deserve such a tragedy to my family and the love of my life dear Michael?
When the road was cleared by bulldozers, I drove up the hill and got close to my parent’s villa. I could see that it was totally buried in the river of mud that had come down. Emergency workers were using shovels and machines to try and dig people up quickly. I sat on a rock nearby and was devastated – I cried and cried and cried. Regular phone services had been knocked out, so their phones were not responding. What was I going to do?
Just then someone tapped me on my shoulder, and I turned around and was totally surprised! “My dear Chica!” my father cried pretty soon I was locked in an emotional embrace of my father, mother and Michael. For me this was the best day of life. “The emergency service had asked us to move to a nearby community center on the nearby hill that they thought would be safer, and luckily the worst part of the landslide avoided us. But there are many buried in the mud in our village. Let’s pray for them!”
I was overjoyed as I embraced Michael, and my body shook with waves of crying and tears of joy! “I was so worried about you my love”, I said. To which he replied, “We were worried about you too as the news was that the coastal areas were devastated”. I sat down on the rock with him with my parents on one side and then smiled and smiled and smiled as tears flowed down my cheeks. God had been so kind to me!!
The next few days were spent living in the emergency shelter in the city down below. Gurinder came few days later to help. That was so great of him! People were so awed by this turbaned Sikh who showed such compassion. They asked him how come he came to help. He said, “First, I had to help my friends Alana and Michael. Then our spiritual leaders have taught us to work for the good of all”. How could I not come and help?” We thanked him for his good heart and his help. Gurinder and Michael went off to shop in the few shops that were still open in the city.
Next day, Michael and I went and romanced around our favorite lake. This time was different and even more intense. We sat on a bench around the lake, and I sat on his lap facing him with my legs astride and we kissed and kissed and kissed. I looked him in the eyes and told him, “Don’t you ever give me a heart attack like that. I thought I had lost you. I realized I love you more than anything in the world!” He kissed me with one of the most romantic kisses ever as he pulled me into a tight embrace. “I will always stay alive and care for you. You are my heart and soul! Te amo mi amor!” (I love you my sweetheart – in Spanish). I was overjoyed and rested my head on his chest.
Soon, he made me get up and sit on the bench by myself. I said, “What happened? Are you mad at me?” He smiled and before I knew it he knelt before me and then opened a little box that had the most beautiful ring in the whole world. I was shocked and could not believe it. He then smiled and said, “My dear Alana, will you marry me?” The soul inside me cried out “Yes!” “I bought it when I went shopping with Gurinder yesterday” and he laughed out loud. I went and sat on his knee as he slipped the ring on my finger.
The wedding was a quick one as Michael had to get back to work. It was a great wedding by Guatemalan standards but austere because of the disaster. Gurinder of course entertained us by his Bhangra dance and taught many of the girls and women how to dance. They taught him some Guatemalan dances and I was getting the feeling there may be some romance developing. Michael and I got a special suite in a hotel and enjoyed our honeymoon night. We had the most romantic night of our lives as we hardly slept and did love making all night long. It was just heavenly!
Gurinder and Michael took off next day as they had to get off to work. My boss called me and together with him I got busy in all the tasks of disaster recovery. We had to help the communities to “Build Better Back” so they would be ready for the next hurricanes and storms and needed to be more resilient. We guided the communities on how they needed to build better and be better prepared. It was tough going as the funds were short, although US and United Nations aid helped the recovery.
Pretty soon I found out that I was pregnant. I called Michael and broke the news to him. He was overjoyed. “I am so happy for us my love. I am so excited for our baby and that we are starting our family”. “You better come and be with me later as I need you mi amor (my love)!’ “For sure, I’ll be there next month to be with you”, he said.
As expected, I was beginning to look more and more pregnant and started slowing down my work activities. Michael called me and sure enough he was there with me. My parents had built another small house near their old villa after the ruins had been cleared away, so that is where we stayed. My pregnancy did not reduce our passionate love making although we had to be careful about the baby.
As usual, we went one evening to our favorite lake and sat on the bench where he had proposed to me. The lake and the hills were looking so beautiful as the sun was setting. I sat in his arms with our cheeks close together. Michael reached over and touched my stomach. Just then the baby kicked. “Did you feel that?” I said. Baby is active like you” he said, smiling.
“I hope the world comes to its senses and starts doing something about solving climate change. It’s so peaceful. Let’s prepare for our baby!” he said.
Ivanov Reyez was an English professor at Odessa College. His poetry has appeared in Paris Lit Up, The Galway Review, The Blue Mountain Review, The Cafe Review, Pinyon, Sierra Nevada Review, and elsewhere. He won the riverSedge Poetry Prize 2015. He is the author of Poems, Not Poetry (Finishing Line Press, 2013).
First, here’s an announcement from contributor Frank Blackbourn, who asked us to share in our publication:
I hope this message finds you well. I’m reaching out on behalf of a woman in our community who urgently needs support to avoid eviction. She is a neurodivergent artist and mother who started a small Etsy shop to support her family by selling unique items that promote acceptance for the LGBTQ+ and ADHD communities.
Right now, she faces a critical challenge. Her only means of transportation—a van she relies on for her business and income—broke down, requiring $1,700 in repairs to fix both the suspension and antilock system. Without this van, she can’t attend events, make deliveries, or earn enough income to cover mounting bills. Every day the van sits unrepaired, her financial situation worsens, bringing her closer to eviction.
The impact of this breakdown has been devastating, and she now faces the immediate threat of losing her home if she can’t get back to work soon. By supporting her GoFundMe, you’re helping her cover these essential repairs, restoring her ability to work and allowing her to keep her family safe and housed.
Now, for this month’s issue, the Thin Fabric of Time. Many cultures mark a time to remember ancestors or deceased loved ones this time of year, believing the veil between life and death was thinnest at this time. Modern physics draws on fabric as a metaphor for space and time as fundamental dimensions of the universe.
This issue’s contributors address cultural memory, family heritage, grief, life and death, and the different generations.
Federico Wardal describes a new museum of antique relics that will open up in Egypt.
Jeff Tobin evokes our inextricable human connection to the past and to personal and cultural memory. Terry Trowbridge recollects the strong and competent women of past Saturday morning cartoons while lamenting his own human weaknesses.
John Grey speaks to our human powerlessness in the face of our own natures as well as the external world. Yet, despite this, we can still believe we are the centers of our own universes.
Xavier Womack’s poetry advises a person to heal the generational wound of not loving oneself. Rubina Anis shares her paintings of women of varying ages standing together.
Dilnura Kurolova celebrates the treasure of friendship. Azemina Krehic draws on contradictions as a metaphor for the irrational beauty of romantic love. Mahbub Alam expresses how love can create its own likeness to heaven here on Earth. Stephen Jarrell Williams shares a simple but elegant poem on spiritual and divine love. Closer to Earth, Noah Berlatsky waxes clever about a clumsy but perfect love.
Duane Vorhees presents near-operatic musical and poetic images of sensuality as Eric Mohrman gasps out miniature vignettes of romantic tension.
Janet McCann reviews Chuck Taylor’s new collection Fever, observing not just the sensuality of the work, but the many restrictions and ‘prisons’ in which the mostly male narrators find themselves and what that says about modern masculinity and men in love.
Philip Butera uses an unfinished painting as a metaphor for a fleeting love affair, highlighting the tragedy but also the inevitability of its bittersweet ending. Taylor Dibbert’s poetic speaker once again sets off on a jet plane after a harsh divorce.
Ozodbek Narzullayev reflects on a passing school year with nostalgia and wishes to stay in touch with classmates. Sevinch Shukurova outlines various types of sentence construction. Z.I. Mahmud churns Indian and Anglo-Saxon cultural iconography together in a cauldron of speculative fiction that ends in effusive praise of Shakespeare.
Maftuna Yusupboyeva celebrates the literary contributions of Karakalpak Uzbek poet Berdak and his place within Uzbek folk and working people’s culture. Marjonabonu Xushvaqtova rejoices in her love for books and reading. Aymatova Aziza celebrates the cultural treasures found within libraries.
Yolgoshova Sevinch offers her love and praise for her native Uzbekistan as she would to her parents.
Marvelous Monday expresses a cultural group’s proud resilience despite poverty and injustice. Komron Mirza laments social and moral decline around him, yet resolves that the world is not yet ending. Rasheed Olayemi Nojeem laments corruption in his country’s judicial system while Jake Cosmos Aller decries the cultural ugliness of hate and authoritarianism. Christopher Bernard highlights the difficulty of choosing among political leaders with imperfect agendas and ideas.
Faleeha Hassan’s short story highlights the strength of a couple keeping their dignity under grinding poverty. Howard Debs’ poem comments on the reality of food service and on those who see the work as a game or a photo-op.
Dr. Jernail S. Anand reminds us that poets and cultural creators are as human as the rest of us, and urges people to be strong yet flexible, like water.
Giulia Mozzati-Zacco captures the scattered thoughts of a young woman nearing her death.
Mark Young conveys moments when the surreal enters our ordinary physical world. Maurizio Brancaleoni highlights humorous moments of life surrounding Halloween/Day of the Dead.
Patrick Sweeney proffers glimpses of the world and culture through sentence fragments. Texas Fontanella plays with words and syntax to craft prose. Saad Ali pairs original haiku with lesser-known historical paintings.
Later, Texas Fontanella plays with verbiage and syntax through disjointed text messages. J.D. Nelson highlights tiny bits of urban and wild life during fall. Rachel Bianca Barbeito crafts tender portraits of gentle puppies.
Turgunov Jonpolat outlines his volunteer work in climate ecology, made possible through an international educational collaboration. Muhammadjonova Farangizbegim Ma’mirjan discusses technology and gamification as ways to effectively teach the natural sciences, including ecology. Anna Keiko writes of psychological and ecological dreamtime and awakenings and the need to protect the environment.
Sayani Mukherjee recollects a languid and happy day in a small country village. Wazed Abdullah praises the steady presence of the stars. Maxliyo Axmatova reflects on the warmth, growth, and renewal brought by the sun.
Ahmad Al-Khatat speaks to the memories that live on in the minds of exiles from war, even on bright calm sunny days. Azemina Krehic reflects on the human cost of war and other violence to Bosnian women and girls.
Maja Milojkovic shares her hopes for peace among the world’s nations and peoples. Eva Petropoulou Lianou speaks to our universal human desire and need for love and mercy. Mesfakus Salahin describes the spiritual and human unity made possible through universal love.
Abigail George grieves over the loss of life in Palestine. Iduoze Abdulhafiz’ prose evokes the human trauma unfolding in Gaza. Jacques Fleury reviews Duane Vorhees’ poetry collection Between Holocausts, which grapples with that vast historical trauma. Daniel De Culla laments the grotesque tragedy of war on this Day of the Dead. Alexander Kabishev evokes the gross devastation of war through a tale of the death of a zoo elephant in Leningrad. Nuraini Mohammad Usman uses onomatopoeia to render digestion into poetry while urging world peace: making dinner, not war.
Ivan Pozzoni evokes the dark history among the beauty of his home Italian island. Alan Catlin describes varying levels of grief underlying a peaceful and beautiful place. Tuyet Van Do laments the human tragedies caused by recent hurricanes in the southeastern U.S.
Anindya Paul harshly evokes the loss of innocence in his poetry. Rukhshona Toxirova outlines ways for physicians to show compassion for patients at a tender age.
Isabel Gomez de Diego crafts images of childhood: a visit to a maritime park, a family photo with a young brother, dressing up for Halloween. Kylian Cubilla Gomez presents photographic scenes of nurturance: squash cultivated in a garden, children’s toys, Russian nesting dolls.
Stephen House grieves over and remembers his deceased mother. Graciela Noemi Villaverde grieves for the loss of her mother’s gentle spirit. Lan Qyqualla draws on a variety of ancient Western myths to lament the loss of his wife.
Nurullayeva Mashhura’s tragic tale of a neglected grandmother reminds us to care for our elders. Rahmiddinova Mushtariy offers praise for the nurturance and teaching of her father. Ilhomova Mohichehra comes to realize how much she values and respects her father as she grows more mature.
Michael Robinson recollects the loving fatherhood he has found from God in a piece describing his Christian salvation and personal journey from wanting to die to having a fresh new life.
Fhen M. crafts a vignette on a comfortable porch, a liminal space between the interior and exterior, inspired by change and transition.
Brian Barbeito speaks to the poetic and mystical meanings he finds embedded in each season, with wisdom in autumn and winter.
Chloe Schoenfeld captures the aftermath of a festive event, the small chaos after the elegance. Seasons change and time passes for us all, and no “mountaintop experience” can last forever.
Jacques Fleury shares wisdom from a teen dying of cancer to motivate us to live with passion and joy. Mashhura Ahmadjonova reflects on the whirlwind passage of time.
Mykyta Ryzhykh depicts a ghostly ship where all the mariners have turned skeletal, forgotten even by history. David Sapp also comments on our mortality and how others will eventually lose our memories in the swirling fog of time.
Before that happens, please take some time to savor this issue of Synchronized Chaos and honor each of the contributors by letting their voices be heard.
Although they are young, they are in their eighties
Old people have a poor wallet
Don’t get up in the morning prayer
I don’t think it’s the end of time
Mother of orphaned children
Let them throw it aside
It’s worth it like a commodity
I don’t think it’s the end of time
If you see it, you will be amazed
They hurt your heart
Markets that sell honesty
I don’t think it’s the end of time
A cemetery after an inauspicious year
One Qur’an in one unreadable year
We have no faith left
I don’t think it’s the end of time
It’s time until dawn
Rest until noon
Even the night passes in sleep
I don’t think it’s the end of time
Beamal is a genius scientist
The mistake of Kufr-u Shirk
His fatwa is a lie
I don’t think it’s the end of time
Adultery became commonplace
Buildings of faith collapsed
Chests like eyes were opened
I don’t think it’s the end of time
Women are not hot for men
I can’t help but think about prostitution
A handkerchief wrapped in condolence
I don’t think it’s the end of time
People build palaces
If they walk without Peshwa, they are murids
Ignorant people laugh at us
I don’t think it’s the end of time
What is the dream of everyone
The cure in the kingdom is the singer
So “Navoi” is in the room
I don’t think it’s the end of time
You are complaining, O Mirza
It’s not good manners
Don’t take the punishment in Mahshar
I don’t think it’s the end of time
Komron Mirza was born on March 30, 2001 in Sherabad district of Surkhandarya region. At the moment, he is a student of Applied Psychology, Faculty of Social Sciences, TerMU, Termiz city, Surkhandarya region. He is a creative and future master of his profession.
