-- Kelly <3

Rebento, tudo que nasce é rebento
Tudo que brota, que vinga, que medra
Rebento raro como flor na pedra
Rebento farto como trigo ao vento

Outras vezes rebento simplesmente
No presente do indicativo
Como a corrente de um cão furioso
Como as mãos de um lavrador ativo

Às vezes, mesmo perigosamente
Como acidente em forno radioativo
Às vezes, só porque fico nervoso
Às vezes, somente porque eu estou vivo

Rebento, a reação imediata
A cada sensação de abatimento
Rebento, o coração dizendo: "Bata"
A cada bofetão do sofrimento
Rebento, esse trovão dentro da mata
E a imensidão do som
E a imensidão do som
E a imensidão do som desse momento

-Tahir x

Having only lived in Tokyo as a child, I am unable to fully form an audible perception of home in my birthplace. I now attempt to find a sense of belonging remotely through art and music. "Sasurai", or "wandering" in English, depicts the longing for a place and people to call home, and finding comfort in being a wanderer, a stranger.

(Marilyn)

Millie x

Although I have always lived in the same place, my mind and my grandparents stories have taken me on a number of journeys to the other lands I call home. I have chosen the spoken word piece 'broken english' by rupi kaur to express how I feel about my home but most importantly to express how in awe I am of my grandparents, for the journey they took, for the lives they created and for the struggles they faced with broken english pouring out their mouth and they still created a place for me to call home. My grandparents and my ancestors before them are always my muse and my inspiration when it comes to my poetry and spoken word, so I wanted to put them and their story on the map...

Here's a rough translation of the lyrics:

If I were a rose, I would not bloom just once

Every year, four times, I would burst into bloom

I would bloom for the boy, I would bloom for the girl

For true love, and for passing away

If I were a gate

I would always stand open

No matter where they come from, I would let anyone in

I wouldn't ask them, 'So, who sent you?'

I would be happy if everyone came

If I were a window

I would be so large

That the whole world could become visible

With understanding eyes, they would see through me

I would be happy if I showed everything

If I were a street

I would alwazs be clean

Every blessed evening, I would bathe in light

And if a tank's cogwheel ever stepped on me

Even the earth belowm me, would crumble in tears

If I were a flag

I would never fly loose

I would be angry towards every kind of wind

I would be happy if they stretched me out

And I wouldn't be a plaything for any kind of wind

My cousin passed away while I was living here and it was (and still is) a grief that knocked me completely sideways and upside down. This house was the safest place for me to be, gentle and sunlit and a 20 minute walk from the local swimming pool. I had a full time job but I barely remember being there, I just remembering in the house in the sun and looking after each other. There is such a gentleness to chosen family, the way we aggressively cared for each other in the most simple of ways. We got evicted last year and since moving, my flatmate Sarah has moved into a new flat elsewhere, and her girlfriend recently said to me she wished we still lived together. Sarah got a cold and nobody went to the shops for her and made her soup. That house was really, truly my home and I miss it so much.

While my eyes
Go looking for flying saucers in the sky

While my eyes
Go looking for flying saucers in the sky

Rasmee, combines the traditional folk & country singing with the local dialect in a soulful form yet narratives the hardship faced by the souls in the region. A narrative that is synonymous with the genre.