Killed: Postcards from Palestine by Carol Sansour

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Killed by the silence 
Killed by the lies 
Killed waiting 
Killed wanting 
Killed fighting 
Killed negotiating 
Killed hungry 
Killed cold 
Killed lonely 
Killed in a group 
Killed in the light 
Killed in the dark 
Killed standing 
Killed sleeping 
Killed thinking
Killed dreaming 
Killed by the killer and the viewer and the god 

Roma, February 2015 ● روما، فبراير ٢٠١٥

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Everybody’s Little Everyday: Eight Pictures by Maria Colombo

“A man going quietly about his business all day long expends far more muscular energy than an athlete who lifts a huge weight once a day. This has been proved physiologically, and so the social sum total of everybody’s little everyday efforts, especially when added together, doubtless releases far more energy into the world than do rare heroic feats. This total even makes the single heroic feat look positively minuscule, like a grain of sand on a mountaintop with a megalomaniac sense of its own importance.”

R. Musil, The Man Without Qualities

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Maria Colombo is on Instagram and Tumblr

Sujith Nambiar: Mumbai-Doha-Mumbai

A user experience/product designer by trade, I am a self-taught contemporary Indian artist and photographer, actively seeking multi-dimensional conditions and emotions through my photographs. Initially photography was a newfound medium into which to channel my creative energy alongside painting. I have been engaged in street photography since 2013, capturing moments from the streets without any predefined purpose or set agenda.

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Summer Dawn: Nourhan Tewfik’s Pictures of Southern Spain

The distant hills appear with their smooth reptilian undulations.

The infinitely crystalline transparencies reveal themselves in dim splendor. The shadows hold night in their tangles, and the city begins to shed its idle veils, rendering visible its cupolas and its ancient towers illuminated by a soft golden light.

The houses reveal faces with empty eyes among the verdure, and the grasses, poppies and vines dance entertainingly to the sound of the breeze from the sun.

The shadows are lifting and vanishing languidly, while in the air there is a piping of ocarinas and reed-flutes produced by the birds.

In the distance there are confusions of mist and heliotrope among the poplar groves, and now and then, in the dawn freshness, is heard a distant bleating in the key of F.

“Egypt before the Revolution”: Per Munther’s Leica

Cairo, 15 January 1850

[…] Here we are then, in Egypt, the land of the Pharoahs, the land of the Ptolemies, the kingdom of Cleopatra (as they say in the grand style). Here we are, and here we abide, with our heads shaven as clean as your knee, smoking long pipes and drinking our coffee lying on divans. What can I say? How can I write to you about it? I have scarcely recovered from my initial astonishment.

 

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