“Late evening, on the first of May – The twilit May – the time of love. Meltingly called the turtle-dove, Where rich and sweet pinewoods lay. Whispered of love the mosses frail, The flowering tree as sweetly lied, The rose's fragrant sigh replied to love-songs of the nightingale." Editorial inspired by the poem “May” from Karel Hynek Mácha.
Come here Scheherazade, tell us your story ... Not all of us are as brave as you. Teach us your manners and ways of thinking. Give us your knowledge. Distract us with your beauty and heal our minds, poisoned by rulers. Let us gaze upon your wisdom. Set us free.
Last night I dreamed of chickens, there were chickens everywhere, they were standing on my stomach, they were nesting in my hair, they were pecking at my pillow, they were hopping on my head, they were ruffling up their feathers as they raced about my bed.