It is as though there is a real world and a world of eerie dreams.

It required a certain focus and concentration in order to vaporize.

For the time being I set the head in a shallow porcelain bowl, the kind used for flower arrangements.

Galactic Empire, you're my only hope.

“Please kill me. Kill me, like you killed your wife.”

The girl finally grew incredibly small, about one centimeter wide.

The next afternoon I saw Granny Nabi pushing a dog in a stroller.

All journeys explore this side of the atmosphere

A girl will head toward the taxi stand, dragging a noisy suitcase far too small for her hopes.

There are riot police trucks blockading the street, not even a mosquito could squeeze by.

And the woman who died—the victim, I mean—looked just like you.

Today we have with us the woman who toppled the government.

Before you head out to your local pride parade, stop by Padua's, courtesy of Matteo Bianchi's “Maternal Pride.” Bianchi's droll panorama captures both the teeming crowd and the…

Einaudi bought the Italian rights to my novel before it had an English language publisher, editor, or even a title. Work on the translation began last summer, around the time the book was published in…

In Cristina Peri Rossi's “Ne me quitte pas,“ a fortysomething psychiatrist finds a patient's romantic anguish reflects his own insecurity about his teenaged lover. As the patient describes…

It's Metro Day at WWB. We're celebrating the publication of Magdy El Shafee's graphic novel, available today from Metropolitan Books in Chip Rossetti's translation. Readers will recall…

I go to the four cardinal points looking for myselfin a procession with all the women I’ve been

Seventeen years old: a terrible age for studying. A terrible age for anything other than fornicating.

If a queen cries an entire sea, she has to cry the Mediterranean or, at least, the Aegean

If singing my love is loving my country, I am a soldier

She wished she were blind so she couldn’t see the man mincing around, mimicking her father in a skirt.

The rest of the night we refold our spread-open bodies dreaming snake-dreams.

We’re in a strange land and Christmas is nearing.

Me and my language/ are worlds apart.

In that room I met practically the entire fauna of the epoch.

The voice seemed to be coming from the pig.

It's war/ when we meet

Damp earth, jasmine

I feel the promises impressed by your lips.I repeat the ringing syllables of your name