Sterne by Margit Lõhmus
I’d been living a poor, lonely life in Berlin for almost a year. I only hung out with chumps, people who had zero interest in me, who were only interested in themselves, heh, no, they weren’t interested in themselves, either. I’d gotten in the habit of making out everywhere: cafés, the metro, parties, the sidewalk.…
The Night of Souls by Karl Ristikivi
This time I went nowhere. I remained in the street. I had read so much about the primeval-forest solitude of a metropolis’s streets that I allowed myself to be led astray. I soon realized that I should not have done it. People differ, and so do cities ...
The Autumn Ball by Mati Unt
It became a common joke among the bourgeoisie: I don’t know if it’s a woman or a man? They were always very interested in that. But it wasn’t only the bourgeoisie. Theatre scholar Jan Kott saw a couple kissing in Copenhagen one night, and he couldn’t tell which one was which. But he based one…
Lilli Luuk’s Night Mother
Luuk does not shy away from dealing with complex themes in her works – death, war, occupation and the transmission of generational traumas are just some of the motifs that the writer, with the help of sensitive and aesthetic language, weaves into her narratives.
Glass Noodles by Maarja Kangro
She recalled a crappy bang during a lovely Danish residency. It’d been with a tattooed Danish sci-fi writer three years her junior. He’d been high and dry for a year; S., on the other hand, had recently gone through a flurry of bland partners in an attempt to overcome a broken heart.
The Manifesto of Clotted Blood
The first and most radical of our recommended measures regards the application of words. To be clear: not any or all words, but only those that will express the voice of our heart. It’s not hard to find examples of words that express the ideas pertaining to our situation. The first 'dickhead'. And the next:…
