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Issue 2: Howl at the Moon

Fitting

poised as summer in the center/of a cold house, yellow joy/in the midst of blues, a girl/at a woman’s time of descendance. 

Patterns

she thought, now i am not a mother/not a wife, but force, annihilation/havoc and ruin

Endless Nights

The moon could be with me/like an old lover,/but romance is dead,/so I must stay awake,/alone.

A Woman in Public, from Karachi to London

Our bodies give us away, regardless of what we wear or how we behave outwardly; our bodies give us away because we can’t breathe until we step foot inside our safe spaces.

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The Essence of Womanhood

Even as they are engulfed in the vast and bleak pits of sorrow, women are to prioritize their izzat and the delicacy of the khandaani ties over the vacancy and wrath in their own selves—to remain quiet against their will when someone complains about the lack of aloo in their biryani, about the chai being too cold.