A few months ago, I accidentally deleted a chat history with a friend. The chat refracted in some way the history of our friendship since its beginning. But it contained no important information, no great thoughts on either side, or at least not many. This was not a great loss. I could just forget about it, I told myself. Most of us do. We lose, and we move on – usually. What matters always is the life we live, the now and next, not the bytes of info we send and receive. And we can lose far greater things, anyway – a family heirloom, even a house. We all lose memories. We all lose our childhood, and past times. And of course, the people we love.
A logo might start as a designer’s whim. Only then does one look for meanings to fill it with. On Europas: mythic, artistic, fictional, political, psychological, satirical, and finally unfinished.
Ramallah, downtown, fifth floor. The phone rings and the caller’s number appears on the screen. It’s an unknown number. And yet a call that comes at this hour must be answered.
رام الله، وسط البلد، الطابق الخامس. يرن الهاتف ويظهر رقم المتّصل على الشاشة. إنه ليس لأحد معارفنا، فالرقم غير معروف. مع ذلك، يتطلّبُ اتصال هاتفي في ساعة مبكِّرةٍ كهذه الردَّ عليه.
The great storm surge is coming, it has always been coming in the borderland between Denmark and Germany. Here, Danish writer Dorthe Nors visits the Frisian Wadden Sea island of Sylt, as part of her travels along the North Sea coast.
The great storm surge is coming, it has always been coming in the borderland between Denmark and Germany. Here, Danish writer Dorthe Nors visits the Frisian Wadden Sea island of Sylt, as part of her travels along the North Sea coast.