New book from Oana Avasilichioaei


“This urn I am, this verge of me, if my trumpet I give to you, will you play?”
“This rope I am, chalking pavement with ardour, will you cross to me?”
“I will cross, I will cross you my soil, soil you will need for this battle.”
“Then I will play as the tree does with the wind. But these beasts, where are they?”

A fairy tale; a book within a book; a mediation on languages, their porous margins; a social commentary; the oral, the animal brutes my new book, We, Beasts, which is just out (Wolsak & Wynn, May 2012) and which I would like to share with you. 

To listen to a watery sample: 




To read it in the comfort of your own beast: 
or

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