From the Editor, & the Launch of Hazem Fahmy's Waiting for Frank Ocean in Cairo

This collection was born out of the search for something bigger than the silence & static. On Friday, I think we came close to finding it.

"I am learning to call things disruptive instead of radical." (An Interview With Hazem Fahmy)

I am at a point in my life where the question most on my mind isn’t what am I asking from a place, but rather what I owe a place I have made a home.

Literature, Music, InterviewsKate WilsonMarch 13, 2022Hazem Fahmy, Frank Ocean, Zaid Khaled, Wegz, Sfire, Sheikh Imam

Frank Haunts Me Across a Decade (Hazem Fahmy on Waiting for Frank Ocean in Cairo)

By 2020, Waiting for Frank Ocean in Cairo had become a kind of phantom; a project that haunted me, yet whose future seemed illusive.

Music, LiteratureGuestMarch 9, 2022Hazem Fahmy, Frank Ocean

Introducing Elegy

Welcome to elegy: the last dropped petal—the mirror in mourning—the light still on for what once was beautiful.

Music, AnnouncementsTopaz WintersAugust 6, 2021

From the Editor: The Synaesthesia Issue

I am slow to reach for music these days, maybe because music doesn’t feel out of reach anymore.

From the Editor, Announcements, MusicTopaz WintersJuly 28, 2021

The Synaesthesia Letters (A Selection)

When a poem reaches its most potent limits, I consider it reaching into the state of song.

"When we open ourselves to fully experiencing music, the border between sound and body dissolves." (An Interview With Janelle Cordero)

The human face and figure are inescapable transits of power, and seeing certain poses transforming the page grounds me in myself like nothing else.

Art, Music, InterviewsKate WilsonJuly 22, 2021Janelle Cordero, Norah Jones, Ray LaMontagne, Joni Mitchell, Ray Charles

IX: Synaesthesia | Silver-Tipped Swallow: "Come as You Are"

With my suitcases packed & the sky creased to its perfect middle, I’m the most beautiful I’ve ever been without having already left.

"It's the unison where the magic happens." (Darnell "DeeSoul" Carson on Synaesthesia)

When I listen to music, it moves through me because it has to. The soundwaves hit my ears, and my body decides where it needs to go next.

IX: Synaesthesia | Uncomposed: "Daughter, Peach"

I could be sharp-tongued, curious, fucked-up—what had never felt available to me. For the first time, French was no longer borrowed, but mine.

Personal Essay, Music, ColumnsPaola BennetJune 29, 2021uncomposed