Rheim Alkadhi

 
 

 
This is the picture house.
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There’s a bed on the roof. The blanket that’s used as a door – I pull it over me when I sleep, like this.
 

 
At night, I become handsome, erect, a projectionist ambling toward the projection booth.

A blanket is flung over the screen and a sound recording begins. A lover drives me to Baqouba in the rain. I’m soaked, pressing my bearded kisses along her flattened contours, looking for ways and reasons to enter her.
 

 
(View source image here.)