e-revista EgoPHobia - ISSN 1584-6210
by Zary Fekete In Budapest, if you wake up in the middle of the night by a flash of lightning and a burst of thunder when you go out in the morning to the rain-washed sidewalks of the city you will find snails. After every rain the byways of this grand city must be shared […]
by D.E. Nikci First, there was darkness.
[interview with Nazmi Ağıl] by Monica Manolachi It is June 2023 and we are at the University of Bucharest, where the 24th edition of the Annual International Conference of the English Department of the Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures usually takes place. The small two-floor building in Pitar Moș Street, which has hosted the event […]
by Douglas Young Mimosa Mitchell was an 85-year-old “pillar of the community” and matriarch of one of the most prominent families in Petunia Springs. Indeed, for generations the Mitchells had been a significant presence among the town’s politicians, doctors, bankers, and accountants. Mimosa’s late husband had long enjoyed the largest medical practice in all […]
by Julian Gallo Luz stands on the balcony, holding the rail and leaning forward, a shaft of the fading sunlight illuminating a strand of hair which billows in the breeze. A few autumn leaves spiral upwards from the street, rotating in the air before catching another updraft and fluttering away. She leans her elbows on […]
Song-objection-obsession, facing a grave not William Carlos Williams’ In a tank, the cited obsession. A prosperous eccentric, war veteran, decides, every once in a while, to steamroll the door of a nearby cemetery,
26. There are a few languages that have a plural form for the already plural number And even for the plural of the plural of the initial plural But no language has a denomination for a more singular than the regular singular
by Kevin Johnson Murillo The Beggar The Giver “The fact of the matter is I have nothing to offer you, my pockets are empty, my shirt coat is empty, my stomach is empty. If I had anything to offer you, I’d give it away freely without a moment’s hesitation. I’ve never been one to cling […]
The ballad. by Paweł Markiewicz The moony, dreamy naiad is awakened, like pearl in the deepest marine finery. She-muser of eternity seeks for hoard. Choir: Muse’s treasure amaranthine-gentle.
God in Dog Years the dog died at the bottom of the stairs at 91 in