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Archive | PRIVATE Writers

PRIVATE 56, p. 3

Pierre-François Moreau | School

Good news, it infuses this issue with a sense of joy, and with an aspect of carefree childhood seized in flight. There is a feeling of solemnity, but a tender

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PRIVATE-55_Michele

Michele Smargiassi | Rurality now

When they came to tell us that farming without farmers could exist we smiled. But now we have uninhabited expanses of land, mechanization, greenhouse plants untouched by human hand.

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Hans Durrer | Hope

Since we are living, to a large part, in a socially constructed world – think of the legal system or of bureaucracy, for instance –, social reports can be pretty

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Alain Jullien | Photography and Photographers

Big changes are happening in photography today, and we cannot blame digital photography for all of these upheavals. The close connection between photography and reality has not been called into

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Franck Bijou | Présences

I recently made a train journey in France. Leaving from Paris but, and this is what I asked the ticket seller at the station…

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Ami Steinitz | Meta Reality

A living environment is a defined terrain where actual and imaginative perceptions are mutually experienced. The current flow of global information intensifies the simultaneous sense of personal space, and images

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text © Dorit Weisman

Dorit Weisman
Looking at a snail the morning after a suicide bombing on Emek Refaim Street

Gray and self assured and solid it moves forward / on its damp and endless journey while yesterday’s ambulances go back and forth / back and forth in my brain…

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Dan Savery Raz | The Leaders

Ah, these are the leaders /These are the leaders – / Madmen in suits. / Believing in numbers, percentages and sanity / Drawing bar-charts to rationalize tanks and air strikes…

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Ester Muchawsky-Schnapper | Three Days later…

I felt like walking with you in the woods / no daffodils but many trees / not really black, or green – no fairy-tale – / but sweet air and

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Dorit Weisman | Sarah

Of all the things in the ad what attracted me / Was the beauty of Sarah / And I stood there, or sat, today, Friday morning, / A winter sun

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E. M. Schorb | The Diamond Merchant

The buoys of memory have faint bells, noticed in the night. / I have left these chiming seamarks for the time of my return…

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Tammara Or Slilat | Miscellaneous

My youngest daughter called from the army, / just returned from an ambush in the desert, this time / they intercepted two men who tried to smuggle Hashish from Egypt…

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Tal Nitzán | In the time of cholera

Facing one another / we turn our backs to the world’s calamities. / Behind our closed eyes and curtains / both heat and war / erupted at once…

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Tammara Or Slilat | Rosh Hashana

I can’t believe it’s / a new year, again / it has crept up on me, softly, surreptitiously, / though the signs, of course, were written on the wall…

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