| Performances |


| Abi-Nader Elmaz ألماظة أبي نادر Writer and Poet كاتبة وشاعرة |



I pull out a yellow pad and put it on the front desk. “I want everyone here to write down their name and put its meaning next to it. If I am Diamond, who are you?” As they write their names, they confer with one another, helping with meaning and spelling. When the pad circulates back to me, five pages are filled with their names. I study it, begin to read down: Eman, Faith, Samah, Forgiveness, Hanaa, Happiness, Radwa, Satisfaction, Abeer, smell of flowers, Israa, a journey between the earth and the sky Nahla, the first sip of water that quenches your thirst, Maha, the gazelle’s eyes, Nermin, Shiny Moon, Mohammed, the servant of God the Giver, Mohammed, the messenger, Mohammed, Mohammed, Mahmoud, Mahmuda, Mohammed... Finally, the names are repeating over and over. I count: thirty-two, thirty-two Mohammeds. I look into the classroom and their faces shine at me. This tribe of Mohammeds named for their messenger. from 32 Mohammeds |

| Tony Khalife composer and musical director |
what you want is my heart in your hand not supple and alive not muscular or blood filled what you want is my heart hard and brittle, easy to crack an egg shell of infertile life a walnut cleanly split meat exposed. what you want is a pomegranate, my heart red speckled skin tough to the touch that you cup with each hand, your fingers wrapped around, held in a open fist.. from Prisoner's Anatomy, the Torture Quartet |
