HuNG OuT

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with thanks to Darko Calina, Atimanyu Vashishth, Farah Aly, Ana Reyes Cid, Sally Stott, Gayatri Sinai Salker, Lea Lahaj, Artemis Morgan, Nita Moesman, Ka Siu Lam, Seonwoo Kim, Julian Wasilewski, Reishin Kunishima Watabe, Leela Keshav, Al Cocks, Abhishek Wagle, Luisa Pires, Pati de Souza Leao Mueller, Pippin, Ben Ibbotson,Thomas Parkes, Bert Walker, Leszek Skrzypiec, Gary Woodley, Darko Calina, Hao Ming, Ryan Dillon, Clive Menzies, Christian Harris, Renate Lurdesa Baumane, Isabel Su Yi Tan, Stuart Croxford, Francesco Zuddas, Anna Lisa Reynolds, Simine Marine, Jennifer May Saxty, Fearghus Raftery, Harriet Jennings, Anna Chantarasak, Roberta Jenkins, Eleanor Dale, Karen Tong, Hazel Xing, Marie

Crossword Answers ( compiled by Seonwoo Kim)

Muybridge twice

do all four feet of a pantomime horse ever leave the ground at the same time?

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with thanks to Darko Calina, Atimanyu Vashishth, Farah Aly, Ana Reyes Cid, Sally Stott, Ryan Dillon, Clive Menzies, Christian Harris, Renate Lurdesa Baumane, Isabel Su Yi Tan, Stuart Croxford, Francesco Zuddas, Anna Lisa Reynolds, Simine Marine, Jennifer May Saxty, Fearghus Raftery, Harriet Jennings, Anna Chantarasak, Ka Siu Lam, Roberta Jenkins, Eleanor Dale, Karen Tong, Hazel Xing, Marie

HANGING AROuND Birch edition

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with thanks to Leslaw Skrzypiec, Ben Ibbotson, Violet Yue Cao, Sally Stott, Ana Virginia Reyes Cid, Farah Aly, Atimanyu Vashishth, Adithya David Premraj, Amelie Kondzot, Dariya Cheremisina, Davide Sacconi, Ka Siu Lam, Al Cocks, Luisa Pires, Darko Calina, Nazar Efendiev, Roberta Jenkins, Irenee Scalbert, Gayatri Nilesh Sinai Salkar

Rain by Francis Ponge

translated by Joshua Corey and Jean-Luc Garneau

The rain, in the backyard where I watch it fall, comes down at different rates. In the center a fine discontinuous curtain — or network — falls implacably and yet gently in drops that are probably quite light; a strengthless sempiternal precipitation, an intense fraction of the atmosphere at its purest. A little distance from the walls to the right and left plunk heavier drops, one by one. Here they seem about the size of grains of wheat, the size of a pea, while elsewhere they are big as marbles. Along gutters and window frames the rain runs horizontally, while depending from the same obstacles it hangs like individually wrapped candies. Along the entire surface of a little zinc roof under my eyes it trickles in a very thin sheet, a moiré pattern formed by the varying currents created by the imperceptible bumps and undulations of the surface. From the gutter it flows with the restraint of a shallow creek until it tumbles out into a perfectly vertical net, rather imperfectly braided, all the way to the ground where it breaks and sparkles into brilliant needles.

Each of its forms has its particular allure and corresponds to a particular patter. Together they share the intensity of a complex mechanism as precise as it is dangerous, like a steam-powered clock whose spring is wound by the force of the precipitation.

The ringing on the ground of the vertical trickles, the glug-glug of the gutters, the miniscule strikes of the gong multiply and resonate all at once in a concert without monotony, and not without a certain delicacy.

Once the spring unwinds itself certain wheels go on turning for a while, more and more slowly, until the whole mechanism comes to a stop. It all vanishes with the sun: when it finally reappears, the brilliant apparatus evaporates. It has rained.

( many thanks to Irenee Scalbert)