The Virgin and the Stone

By Luis Felipe Fabre Poetry

That woman carrying a stone might be understood like this: the Virgin and the Stone:—-to her has been foretold  ————————————the weight of the world. She carries a stone like others their cross.—-A–cross: said to be from this landscape’s newest tree:—artificial tree whose fruit is a natural corpse.—-The stone has the weight ——————————————–of a dead child:…

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It’s Late

By Gemma Gorga Poetry

It’s been a while already since the last pair of animals climbed into the ark. An admirable job. The solitary ones have remained on earth, the unpaired, the ones marked with a red felt pen by God. The chill of the first drops disperses them onto the avenues slippery from the port and docks already…

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O Men

By Abdourahman A. Waberi Poetry

the white-haired child is there, upright in the mire a son of Adam seeking the orient within seeing himself in the eyes of the pack that combs the countryside, spurred on by brass horns his fortune has no bounds he pores over matter which unnerves his world especially the timid ones striding on ibis legs,…

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A Conversation with Van Gessel

By Mary Kenagy Mitchell Interview

Van Gessel has been Shūsaku Endō’s primary English translator since the 1970s. He has translated eight of his novels and worked as a consultant on Martin Scorsese’s adaptation of Silence. We asked him about the previously untranslated Endō story in Image issue 92, and about what Endō’s work has to say to the West. Can…

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The Nightmare God: Art and Sublime Terror

By Natalie Vestin Book Review

Seiobo There Below by László Krasznahorkai, translated from Hungarian by Ottilie Mulzet (New Directions, 2013) Sudden Death by Álvaro Enrigue, translated from Spanish by Natasha Wimmer (Riverhead Books, 2016) A Story of America Goes Walking by Saara Myrene Raappana and Rebekah Wilkins-Pepiton (Shechem Press, 2016) Peter Hujar: Lost Downtown by Vince Aletti and Stephen Koch…

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Hymn to the Blessed Mother

By Shūsaku Endō Short Story

UNTIL LAST YEAR, I worked in a small apartment on Nampeidai in Shibuya. In actuality, the apartment was not on Nampeidai proper, but was located away from the main street and all its spacious mansions, and thus the deposit and the rent were not so very expensive. Of the apartment’s two rooms, I used one…

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Rock, Paper, Scissors

By Maxim Osipov Short Story

ONCE that creature had thudded to the floor and finally gone quiet, she had waited for her rage to subside and her breathing to return to normal before washing everything off at the hand basin in the toilet—the place she always washed. It was, perhaps, inadvisable to destroy all evidence of contact with the rapist—she realized…

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Sovereignty of the Void

By Christian Bobin Essay

YOU MIGHT BE AT A DISTANCE from your life. As always: an ordinary state, banal. Your body headed straight for the abyss, with the forward momentum of age. And beneath the freshness of blood there is weakness, ashes. Nostalgia: the soul. Sick, yes. Without a doubt: sick. And the real name of that sickness would be…

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Evening without Mist

By Michel Houellebecq Poetry

When I wander oblivious among the buildings I see future sacrifices emerge, I would like to adhere to some artifice, Rediscover hope through furniture shopping Or believe in Islam, feel a very gentle God Who would guide my feet, take me on holiday, I cannot forget that scent of departure Between our brusque words, our…

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Wednesday. Mayence—Rhine Valley—Koblenz

By Michel Houellebecq Poetry

Evident duplicity of solitude. I see these old people seated around a table; there are at least ten of them. I could have fun counting them, but I am sure there are at least ten of them. And phwee! If only I could fly off to heaven, fly off to heaven straight away! —-As they…

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