Thomas Wiloch, Το μουσικό κουτί

Μετάφραση: Νικόλαος Τρακάκης

Αγοράζει ένα μουσικό κουτί από το παιχνιδάδικο του κυρίου Τέμπλετον. Είναι από σκαλιστό ξύλο σκούρας βελανιδιάς και έχει μπρούτζινους μεντεσέδες. «Παίζει το βαλς του Σάλτσμπαχ», λέει ο κύριος Τέμπλετον, «όταν ρυθμίζω τον μηχανισμό». Είναι σίγουρος ότι θα της αρέσει. «Παρακαλώ παραδώστε το σήμερα», λέει, και ο κύριος Τέμπλετον γνέφει με σοφία. Continue reading "Thomas Wiloch, Το μουσικό κουτί"

A dive in the dirt

By Antonia Gounaropoulou
Translated by Panagiotis Tourikis

Vassilis Selimas, Hypnos, Acrylics on paper, 80x60, 2016-2017

“Who’ll get there first!”

They’d find themselves low at Makedonomahon Street, at the height of Gioura’s place, and her cousin had lagged behind, stooping at the edge of the dirt road and gathering cyclamens that sprout among pine needles beneath the trees. It was then that she decided to shout:

“Who’ll get there first! Come on, who’ll get there first!” And she started racing towards the house before little Panos could catch on to what she meant.

“Hold it, that won’t do!” shouted the kid all taken aback, and he sprung up clutching a bunch of cyclamens in his left hand. “That won’t do!”

The girl, however, kept running as she teased him:

“Whoever gets there last is a dummy, a dummy, a dummy!”

And suddenly, just as she’d pass by the sand pile in front of the headmaster’s place, a very loud boohoo burst out behind her, a howling not of the sort kids use to communicate between them, but meant to urgently call on the adults. She froze. Continue reading "A dive in the dirt"

Defining the “West”: An orrery of cultural paradigms

Paper 1: Defining the “West”: An orrery of cultural paradigms

Part 1: An attempt at tracing the historical roots of the postmodern humanists

In his very last interview to a reporter, Robert Frost would make the following statement: “I don’t take life very seriously. It’s hard to get into this world and hard to get out of it. And what’s in between doesn’t make much sense. If that sounds pessimistic, let it stand”. It is precisely such “in between” phase which may be said to constitute what André Malraux had referred to as the “human condition”. To understand the “West” – and to attempt to define it through the orrery of cultural paradigms that have come to delineate its history and identity – one would need to commence with that which apparently “doesn’t make much sense”, it being the “human condition”, and as that has been experienced by the so-called “Western” individual. Continue reading "Defining the “West”: An orrery of cultural paradigms"

«Οδός Μακεδονομάχων»: Μια περιδιάβαση σε μια παιδική ηλικία αμιγώς παιδική

Της Αθηνάς Δημητριάδου. Ομιλία στην παρουσίαση του βιβλίου Οδός Μακεδονομάχων της Αντωνίας Γουναροπούλου (εκδόσεις Petites-Maisons), 2 Ιουνίου 2022, Αθήνα, βιβλιοπωλείο Επί Λέξει

Continue reading "«Οδός Μακεδονομάχων»: Μια περιδιάβαση σε μια παιδική ηλικία αμιγώς παιδική"



Bollywood, Hollywood, and the attitudes of diasporic Muslim “cultural clusters”


As has been observed throughout this project on East Ham [and especially in Paper 3 and Paper 4a], the area has also been settled by various Muslim-based “cultural clusters”. An examination of generally ethnic-based cinemagoing practices pertaining to this area and its environs must therefore also consider the case of Muslims and the precise manner in which such particular religious-cultural groupings relate to the world of cinemagoing, be it the projection of Bollywood movies, British movies and/or the Hollywoodian genre. Continue reading "4e/cont. – LONDON: SETTLERS, COCKNEYS, AND THE “CITY TYPE”: THE CASE OF “LITTLE INDIA” – EAST HAM"

The fox

Paul Gauguin, Πρωινό ξύπνημα, 1891
Paul Gauguin, Πρωινό ξύπνημα, 1891

By Antonia Gounaropoulou
Translated by Panagiotis Tourikis

Whenever she’d come down to the gate along Makedonomahon Street, as when she stood on the balcony, the little girl would be faced by the uphill road. As if that road had never had a name, it always being the “uphill” – even though, were one to ask Gogo and her brothers, they’d straight away rattle out its name, just as she’d do with Makedonomahon Street. Each kid and its own street. Continue reading "The fox"

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