What is it that the cops in Ferguson don’t want you to see? Here’s a photo essay from the past week that captures the grit, hope, and horror of life on the restive streets of Ferguson.
Blue was immobilized between red and black.
—Octavio Paz, A Fable of Joan Miró
This is it! This line perfectly encapsulates the essence of Miró’s work. The particular paintings it refers to - black spherical shapes floating in a sea of cold blue, the red gash [of life, of breath] - immortalized Miró in the minds of millions of viewers across the world. Paz nailed it … he understood. (via volaream)
The words “shams” (sun) is feminine, and “qamar” (moon) is masculine. The sun burns itself out to give light and life to everything around, and the moon is muneer, meaning it reflects the light. Within itself it has no light; it radiates the brilliance of the sun. So when we shine as men, the implication is that we are reflecting the glorious light of our women
This is our one-year anniversary issue. We are 1! The Brasilia Review launched July of last year, we published six bi-monthly issues of prose and poetry, and now we’re beaming to present issue 7, which will carry us into our second year. Please feel welcome to submit to issue 8 and join us.
Here in Brasilia, a better breeze has pushed the heat away. The World Cup has only one week more. Neymar suffered a UFC injury in the last match and while Brazil has made it to the final four, they will likely go no further. Sports are very interesting, said The Onion once. For us here it marks the end of fireworks in the day.
In this issue, Steve Brockbank puts new eyes to a couple common moments and refreshes them. R.A. Casilao has the resolved sigh that growing apart means. Shane Kowalski takes a concept and gets it exactly right. Colin James Torre tells a story within a story of a haunting film that does not exist. And in an excerpt from her colonial adventure book, Sevvina X traces young Maria, leader of orphans, bane of shopkeeps, and boxing champ of boys.
Lukas Isenhart’s mind outruns the plane he flies in. David Jibson has the vision of the end of an era, before such things were measured. And Russ Paladin, making his second appearance in the review, sees his daughter grow a certain way because of chance.
Designer Nayrb Wasylycia knows that when you look out the door and see ice, your sky will be a field of grain in sun.
The Brasilia Review is 1 and will be walking soon.
Smoke, Crossing by Steve Brockbank
”the cigarette arcs away a glowing curve bouncing as it hits the concrete road”
Reality in Two Lines, a Diptych by R.A. Casilao
”He brought them a generous plate of cut, deep-fried pork belly.”
The 3-Year-Old Pop Star Is Hungry by Shane Kowalski
”Is she rehearsing her new single ‘Touch My Din Dins?’”
Light Changes with the Season by Colin James Torre
”coming home to find a shoe lying on the top of a bush near his door”
Wayward Daughter by Sevvina X
”they stood up on the barrels and yelled ‘death to the Spanish!’ and ‘fire all cannons!’ pelting the workmen with rocks”
Black Monstrosities Swallowing Tubes by Lukas Isenhart
”thank the pilots, / their little snickers when suggesting drag”
The Last Cave Man by David Jibson
”He’d spent the morning finishing / a mural of a herd of antelope”
My Daughter the Falconer by Russ Paladin
”I helped! / While these prehistoric slaughterers of hers”