e-revista EgoPHobia - ISSN 1584-6210
by Bruce Meyer Timothy was told he’d never known his father. He found that hard to believe. Sometimes he would dream of a man sitting beside him as he assembled cars and houses from plastic blocks that fit together. He was certain those dreams were memories.
by Ella Kanegarian Göktaş “Now because of you I have to read a book, or whatever it is….is it a novel? a story? hmm young lady…I don’t like reading books…takes too much time!” said the Commerce Man without taking off his sunglasses. He noticed my facial expression from his “young lady” and continued talking “So […]
by Doug Dawson ‘Ok Johnny, I know you want to bring your English grade up, but you don’t speak up in class, so it seems like you’re not participating as much as the others.” “Mrs. Ellis, it’s just I’m… shy. I find it hard to talk in a room full of people. I pay attention, […]
by Fabiana Elisa Martínez Hannah pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and looked into the garden with the same intensity with which she had answered James’s question once he had popped it so unexpectedly. “Would it be yes? We deserve a celebration after all this love, don’t you think?” Over the second […]
by Monica Manolachi Like two dots on the horizon, Bucharest and Budapest are often confused. Both are capital cities in Eastern Europe. Both begin with the same two letters and their names rhyme. Both have three syllables, the stress falls on the first one in each case and both have six letters in common. If […]
The idiosyncratic We are humans whom People think of us as being aberrant We behave in a way that is eccentric to their own way Does that mean we are abnormal?
My Yard Taking a walk in my Yard this morning. My Yard isn’t anything like your yard. My Yard has no trees or flowers.
A Love-Thought: for Qi Hong This yearning burns my marrows into itchy bubbles Till… my innermost being evaporates With the hot air of feel
I look at my life (After Su Tung Po) Through a night vaster than the sea, I walk under trees hung with sagging leaves.
Grace In this dimly-lit attic, you open a trunk, unleash the Korean War.