Walking down the scorching streets of Moscow,
Osip turned to Anna and said:
“I’m ready to die.”
Rimbaud said that every poem is the last.
Suppose you held what you love so tightly
you broke it
Suppose you let something slip away
The horse drawn cart hasn’t gone far, it will carry away
the love of the land, and one or two shy grasshoppers.
At this moment, her hanging sickle
reflects the white light of winter arising in the distance.
Fei, a 16 year old British-Chinese girl, is the top violinist in an elite youth orchestra. When another Chinese violinist arrives to challenge her place, Fei’s anxieties and internalized racism grow to take monstrous physical form. They whisper to her, urging her to be the best, no matter the cost.