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The Firecrackers

Nersi Morazfar · Fiction · November 2026
My name is Nima. I am a boy. My mom told me that. She knows these things.I was five. Then there was cake. Now Mom says I am six. Five is gone.We live up high. So high. When I look down, the cars look like toys.Mom hangs clothes on the balcony. My clothes, her clothes, Dad's clothes.They drip. But first, they go in the noisy box. The washing machine. It shakes like it wants to run away.Then Mom brought Mina. Very small. My sister. Mom says, "Nima, you are big now. Watch Mina." I wait. I wait for Mina to get out of the box-bed. Then we can play. Not yet.Mom says, "Play outside less." So I am bored. She says, "You are big." But no friends. I want out. I want to see the kids. Run at them. Laugh. Run. Play till tired. Fall down. Run again. I like the ball best. Mom said, "I buy a ball. No more Kamran's ball." That was before.Now Mom says, "Shoes are expensive." If I play too much, shoes…
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Don Quijote in Piaţă by Bogdan Constantin, Watercolor and ink
Bogdan Constantin · Watercolor and ink · September 2026
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Jaia Papitz · 2018 · Poetry
A recovered text from the first iExile body — returned to circulation, not as nostalgia, but because it still burns.
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Bulă, or How We Invented Quantum
Bulă, or How We Invented Quantum
Jaia Papitz
A literary satire about laughter, bureaucracy, and the small cosmic errors that keep reality from sealing itself shut.

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