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A carpet, anyway you look at it, is the best way to travel. You can take it with you anywhere — into the green forest or the courtyard of a mosque.
By Ebba KraarJune 1975We’re unsure whether to go. “I don’t want to hear about how we haven’t got much time left,” I lament.
By Sy SafranskyJune 1975“Illness,” she says, “is caused by your own actions in this or a former lifetime. Killing, stealing, and lying can draw illness to yourself.” In one out of ten illnesses, she continues, an evil spirit is present.
By Sy SafranskyJune 1975I remember when we dressed in silks, all hair and bells and sweet hallucination, and the bird that rose in our chest we called freedom, and let fly. It was the demand air made of us, and we made a fashion of the wind, sweeping, gliding, curving it to our needs.
By Sy SafranskyApril 1975Speaking without words is like bleeding. The actualization of color in the chest. A chapter in flesh-tones. A swim in the energy that moves people, that draws on the subtle influence of inner mysteries — those essences which are the source of human action.
By Joe BlankenshipApril 1975“No more sheiks in this desert, man.” The dark-skinned, bearded one laughed half-heartedly through a mouthful of smiling teeth. “Not one of them bastards left now. Toke?”
By Blue HararyApril 1975Each seed, each baby born, each word, each deed, all together now, creating the music of the world.
By Mike MathersApril 1975Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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