Photo by Elliott Shaffner PUMLA GOBODO-MADIKIZELA’S HANDS are delicately boned, with long, tapered fingers. As she gestures, you can’t help noticing them. If you’ve read her book, A Human Being Died That Night: A South African Story...

Photo by Debra DiPaolo Enlarge image Why do I speak in poetry? Because in this heavy mist, I cannot be a lighthouse For drifting boats. THE BACK DOOR TO MAJID NAFICY'S MODEST SANTA Monica apartment is open. The aroma of sweet and sour wafts in fro...