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R E D<br />

D O O R<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> WINTER 2019


R E D R E D D O O D R<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> WINTER 2019<br />

This 10th anniversary issue has been compiled in our current physical location in Copenhagen,<br />

Denmark. With collaborations from Australia, Mexico, Colombia, Haiti, Cuba, Ecuador, and other<br />

areas of the Americas, as well as various locations in Europe. Thank you for having us.<br />

www.reddoormagazine.com<br />

<strong>21</strong><br />

Since its creation in New York in 2009, <strong>Red</strong> <strong>Door</strong> aims to serve as an<br />

alternative platform for voices, stories and projects to be heard<br />

without censorship. An independent door to connect our communities,<br />

participating actively in the process of self-actualization, construction and<br />

connection, as a space for free expression and active communication.<br />

W O R L D T H R E A D I N G<br />

Our goal is t o provide the tools for you to be the storytellers and create<br />

opportunities right here and now, between each city and space we inhabit.<br />

Starting the conversations that need to happen.<br />

We aim to be the open door that welcomes the future we need to create<br />

together. The time is now. We exist. Is 2020 ready for us?<br />

All content published with authorization of the authors or their representatives,<br />

remains the property of the respective names listed along each article.<br />

All rights of this publication reserved by<br />

RED DOOR <strong>Magazine</strong> & Gallery,<br />

the artists, the writers, and the photographers.<br />

The reproduction of this magazine in whole or in part is not authorized<br />

without previous written consent from the corresponding parties.<br />

© RED DOOR<br />

Copenhagen, Denmark, 2019


ISSUE # <strong>21</strong>: TRANSITIONS<br />

Editor in Chief,<br />

Design & Art Director:<br />

Elizabeth Torres, Denmark<br />

Correspondents:<br />

IN this issue:<br />

The Neon Rebel,<br />

The Neon Rebellion,<br />

by Melaine Knight, Australia<br />

The House that Jan Built,<br />

Brandon Davis, x-USA / Europe<br />

INTERVIEW with<br />

Daniel Malpica<br />

poet, worldthreader,<br />

HELSINKI 2019<br />

The House that Jan Built<br />

Fundacion Flacquer<br />

by Brandon Davis<br />

LITERATURE:<br />

Give it to the GRAND CANYON<br />

by Noah Cicero - review<br />

POETRY:<br />

Janice D. Soderling<br />

Peter Boyle<br />

Mercedes Roffe<br />

Samuel Gregoire<br />

Julie O’Yang<br />

(Photography by Filip Naudts)<br />

Aleisa Ribalta<br />

Tex Kerschen<br />

VISUAL ART:<br />

Misia Martus aka Mymajo<br />

ECUADOR’S UNREST<br />

PHOTOGRAPHY BY:<br />

David Diaz.<br />

Additional content: An instruction manual to<br />

keep you safe when the time comes to march.<br />

Cover art and featured art by @MYMAJO<br />

<strong>Magazine</strong> designed on InDesign and<br />

Illustrated digitally by Eli<br />

www.madamneverstop.com<br />

Fonts: Aileron for text,<br />

Aktiv Grotesk for subtitles and titles<br />

HEX code: 008080 teal<br />

Tiffany light teal: 81D8d0<br />

RED DOOR<br />

MAGAZINE<br />

Since 2009<br />

10...9....8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1


MAY THE FUTURE FIND US<br />

the TRANSITIONS issue, and how we approach 2020<br />

Everywhere I go, whatever I do, from a podcast interview to the recruiting of content for<br />

another issue of the magazine or simply hanging out with friends, there are subjects<br />

resounding in everybody’s mouths.<br />

They’re words we didn’t often pronounce growing up, but I wonder what would have happened,<br />

had we grown up in a world where we did.<br />

Justice. Equality. Sustainability.<br />

Balance. Accountability. Freedom.<br />

From the current situation going on in Chile, Ecuador, Colombia, Bolivia, to the 16 year old<br />

Swedish woman standing up in a desperate attempt to salvage our future from ourselves.<br />

In the US there’s an IMPEACHMENT trial going on slowly but surely that has many of you<br />

pasted to your TV screens, while in the meantime Gaza trembles, still, and we stand here,<br />

watching it all with sinking feelings in suspense.<br />

When I ask you about transitions, and what they mean to you, poetry flows in various<br />

languages and stories of grief, reconstruction and unrest arrive to the inbox. But that is<br />

precisely what I mean. In order for us to flourish into a more accepting, acceptable society,<br />

a lot is going to have to burn, a lot is going to have to crash, a lot is going to have to be<br />

ripped apart like dead bark, and if it wants to stick around like a rotten virus, then it is up to<br />

us to recognize this and stand up, put on our masks and be the ones who remove it.<br />

Look at Hong Kong. Look at Brazil. Look at Egypt.<br />

the answer is one and it is coming from every angle of our<br />

planet, because we’re hungry, cold, tired, sick of the lies<br />

and sick of the pretentions, and probably exhausted like our<br />

planet is exhausted of the control mechanisms that have<br />

placed us in a wheel of agony and blindness for generations.<br />

Not anymore. Read between the lines. See past the headlines<br />

and hashtags of the constant overfeed of content and realize<br />

that it is up to you now to take action.<br />

Fear not. It is up to each one of us. We are in this together.<br />

May 2020 bring us the resolve and rage necessary for us to<br />

overcome the last of these chains and find the freedom we<br />

and our children deserve.<br />

May the future find us fighting for what is ours.<br />

WE EXIST.<br />

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-Madam Neverstop.


y Mercedes Roffé<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 5


MERCEDES ROFFÉ<br />

Wandering Canto - Translated from Spanish by Margaret Carson<br />

I don’t know how many dreams ago<br />

this journey began<br />

at the shore of the sun at the shore of death<br />

Like a veil sinking into memory<br />

apprentice to banishment<br />

O mirror, moon of dark omens<br />

From what heights will I ask the waters for the path<br />

at the shore of the sun at the shore of death<br />

Time is suspended<br />

and yet<br />

verbs still happen<br />

yesterday an elm tomorrow perhaps a willow<br />

I cross the milk-white thickness of the day<br />

A blind man<br />

a monk<br />

a puppet stretch out their arms from the shore<br />

I HAD PROPHESIZED THE LOSS OF THE KINGDOM<br />

I had seen the boats of madness go by<br />

I had seen the lofty gestures of the idle priests<br />

O innards of vultures, you<br />

had revealed to me the destruction of the temple<br />

But<br />

who heard<br />

Toledo and Alexandria had no room for<br />

the black tongue of the seer<br />

I HAD PROPHESIZED THE DEATH OF THE GODS<br />

But<br />

who heard<br />

* * *<br />

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Tears of blood<br />

toothless laughter<br />

on a river of fire the ship sails<br />

The altars were sacked<br />

and the leaves stirred up by the wind<br />

and the sibylline dogs tempted by the profane<br />

beast<br />

and by food<br />

and the nuptial bed<br />

and silence<br />

Someone hurled the Word from the top of<br />

the tower<br />

The tower is burning<br />

Someone dug up the corpses of my voice<br />

the bodies<br />

the names<br />

The earth is burning<br />

Someone hurled the light the canto<br />

The ocean is burning<br />

Father<br />

Father<br />

A demented child has come out of my body<br />

and has given me<br />

a zither as my fate<br />

and as scepter<br />

shards of a mirror<br />

on the wet spine of a serpent<br />

(oh moon of dark omens)<br />

* * *


You know<br />

You won’t know<br />

You’ve made a crown of perverse fruits<br />

and placed it on my head<br />

Prince<br />

Loss<br />

has chosen your age as a<br />

safe haven<br />

and the hour of your thirst as a sanctuary<br />

You’ve stolen the painted mantle of the<br />

bride<br />

and draped me in golds and purples<br />

(deceptive jewel<br />

the word)<br />

You know<br />

You won’t know<br />

And you’ve threaded diamonds for my<br />

bare feet<br />

and you’ve aged honey for my body<br />

Instead of the battle a monotonous song<br />

Instead of a song a sharp stubborn iron.<br />

. .<br />

Useless to crouch down in the ancient<br />

valley<br />

Useless to tempt the hot coals<br />

Lamb<br />

The golden domes of the Abyss will not<br />

shine for you<br />

There is no shelter no flock<br />

You won’t know<br />

And you’ve cried out<br />

and you’ve performed the rite<br />

and you’ve given it up for dead<br />

(Night<br />

nothing can hide from you<br />

you deny nothing<br />

Old wish-giver)<br />

And you’ve been pretending<br />

But<br />

You won’t know<br />

The path has been forgotten<br />

if there was any<br />

Little Feet . . .<br />

MERCEDES ROFFÉ is one of Argentina’s leading poets.<br />

Widely published in the Spanish-speaking world,<br />

her books have been published in translation in Italy,<br />

France, Quebec, Romania, Brazil, England, and the<br />

United States. Her books in English translation include<br />

Floating Lanterns, transl. by Anna Deeny (UK, Shearman<br />

Books, 2015) and Ghost Opera, transl. by Judith<br />

Filc (US, co-im-press, 2017). She is the editorial director<br />

of Ediciones Pen Press (www.edicionespenpress.<br />

com), specialized in contemporary poetry from around<br />

the world. Among other distinctions, she was awarded<br />

fellowships from the John Simon Guggenheim (2001)<br />

and the Civitella Ranieri foundations (2012).<br />

Books of her photographs inlcude, The Blue Line /<br />

La línea azul (Madrid, 2012) and Otras lenguas (Santa<br />

Fe, 2019). She lives in New York.<br />

MARGARET CARSON’s translations include Remedios<br />

Varo’s Letters, Dreams & Other Writings (Wakefield<br />

Press) and Sergio Chejfec’s Baroni, A Journey (Almost<br />

Island) and My Two Worlds (Open Letter).<br />

Other translations have appeared in The Paris Review,<br />

Aufgabe, BOMB, EOAGH, Asymptote, Seedings,<br />

[SLUG], and Words Without Borders. She is Assistant<br />

Professor in the Modern Languages Department at<br />

Borough of Manhattan Community College, The City<br />

University of New York.<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 7


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JULIE O’YANG is a Europe-based poet, writer,<br />

artist. Born and raised in China, Julie left for<br />

London in the 1990s and has lived in free exile<br />

since. Her work covers a wide spectrum.<br />

She draws inspiration from her multicultural<br />

background and creates an imaginative world.<br />

She is known for her bold, edgy and stunning<br />

approach toward her subjects. Julie currently<br />

works from The Netherlands and Denmark.<br />

www.julieoyang.com<br />

FILIP NAUDTS is a Flemish press photographer<br />

and photography artist. His photography has<br />

been applauded by the media as well as the<br />

general audience. Today Filip Naudts is a household<br />

name with a strong artist’s signature. In his<br />

creative process, he is fascinated by beauty as<br />

well as its relativity. His art reflects an aesthet-<br />

IMAGE BY FILIP NAUDTS<br />

POETRY BY JULIE O’YANG<br />

Blue Tulip<br />

Have you ever forgotten a tulip<br />

and left her in the snow<br />

and as her petals would curl<br />

you grow feverish on her missing scent<br />

her hand turned up and be utterly empty<br />

you are puzzled how free she is, so free it hurts<br />

you<br />

the sticky toffee fingers from a dream<br />

floating over the white ice, quivers<br />

with excitement, longing for spring<br />

let the world be crazy<br />

who cares if we don’t see the sunshine ever?<br />

she wants to be herself<br />

to make a fine show<br />

and be good for nothing.<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 9


ALEISA RIBALTA<br />

THE TRUTH<br />

OF A LOTUS FLOWER<br />

Translation by Elizabeth Torres<br />

A lotus flower can sleep<br />

but it will open its petals<br />

sooner or later<br />

from and within the water.<br />

Every lotus flower will be cultivated<br />

in still, lukewarm water<br />

the currents may dry out the roots<br />

if they’re too far-reaching<br />

it must always be ensured<br />

that they do not touch the ice<br />

nor are embraced by its intensity.<br />

After being harvested the flower<br />

will be sold<br />

preferably to the highest bidder<br />

who in turn will commercialize it<br />

in large scale.<br />

Anything can be made<br />

from the lotus flower.<br />

The lotus hearts can be boiled<br />

their sour taste goes well<br />

with tea, soup and rice<br />

stabilizing and calming<br />

the most unstable intestines.<br />

Lotus petals are great for use<br />

as cosmetics<br />

for skin, hair, teeth<br />

everything can be improved<br />

From the flower essence oil and<br />

creams can be made<br />

desired by women<br />

for making their lovers more virile.<br />

Lotus roots cut like cartwheels<br />

have the same form as a lemon slice<br />

dry and without seeds<br />

delicious when fried<br />

served in most distant<br />

and respectable<br />

Asian dining tables.<br />

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Aleisa Ribalta (Havana, 1971). Born in Cuba, lives inSweden since 1998.<br />

She is a poet, translator and cultural coordinator. As a professional engineer,<br />

works as a teacher of several technical subjects and not directly related to<br />

literature such as: Graphic Interface Design, Web Design and Application Programming.<br />

Has published Talud (Ekelecuá Ediciones, 2018), a first book that<br />

has been translated into Catalan and published as a bilingual edition Talús<br />

/ Talud (bokeh, 2018) and Tablero (Verbo (des)Nudo, Chile, 2019). Has in<br />

preparation the books Cuaderna, bao y regala and Intersexuals Poems.<br />

Collaborated in magazines such as Animal Suspicious (Spain), Conexos<br />

(USA) and Verb (des) Nudo (Chile) with articles and translations. Her poems<br />

have also been published in Humo <strong>Magazine</strong> (Mexico), Le foil (Argentina),<br />

Mimeógrafo (Mexico), Kokoro (Spain) and Nagari (United States). Aleisa<br />

participated in the poetry anthology written by women (Verb (des)<br />

knot, 2018) and All women (Foundations, 2018).<br />

She also directs the online magazine: www.lalibelulavaga.com<br />

The seeds of the lotus flower<br />

Have the same duty o frestarting<br />

this arduous process<br />

Unless they’re taken from the heart<br />

of the flower<br />

in secrecy as smuggled goods<br />

to be used for obscure and varied<br />

medical purposes<br />

Whereas they end up in delicate<br />

beauty pots<br />

In tea mixtures that (according to<br />

the Chinese)<br />

can help ’clear up the heat’<br />

in rough times for certain women<br />

the same who no longer ask<br />

for ointments for the member of<br />

their loved one<br />

nor for bowel-calming medications<br />

nor for smooth complexions,<br />

nor for hair-straightening tricks<br />

but just a bit of steadiness<br />

so that the currents<br />

don’t reach the roots<br />

and suddenlt dry up<br />

the already sour heart<br />

because from the lotus flower<br />

they have learned<br />

to bloom<br />

when noone is waiting,<br />

warm, still<br />

and even two times<br />

per year.<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 11


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MYMAJO says that art is the easiest way for her to talk<br />

to people during episodes of social anxiety. She struggles<br />

with words, but loves colors, especially if they POP.<br />

Her artistic vocabulary always circulates around illustrations<br />

as a direct way of processing information<br />

of what is around her, and expressing<br />

from the simplest to the most complex emotions.<br />

Hint: Look left.<br />

“I like ice cream, spaceships, occult themes, slavic<br />

fairytales, fast food, mental disorders, techno music,<br />

oversized clothes, glitter, drugs, italo disco, funny<br />

accents, organizing parties, candy, horror movies,<br />

pink stuff and chilling. If you can relate to some of<br />

it, you might like my shit. SHIT THAT YOU NEED.”<br />

She is a very peculiar artist, developing her own world.<br />

Combining the traditional art education and her native<br />

language, Polish, with the hallucinations and<br />

thoughts of an alien residing in this current future, MY-<br />

MAJO is equally outspoken, energetic and refreshing<br />

in real life, with art bursting out from her every pore.<br />

To learn more about this colorful human,<br />

visit the following online locations:<br />

h t t p s : / / o h m y m a j o . t u m b l r . c o m /<br />

https://www.facebook.com/tomymajo/<br />

Instagram:<br />

@mymajo<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 13


ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 15


SAMUEL<br />

GREGOIRE<br />

TRANSLATION BY<br />

ELIZABETH TORRES<br />

ADELAIDA<br />

In the water,<br />

in the moist air<br />

silence is dead.<br />

Silence is the abandoned death<br />

in the dream of the abyss.<br />

(The abyss dreams of a heard of abysses,<br />

with bodies without pleasures<br />

dressed up of an asexual cold).<br />

Adelaida,<br />

the mounted one,<br />

the possessed one<br />

of the voices of fire,<br />

of iron, of blood,<br />

of soil, of emerald leaves,<br />

of sun…<br />

A sun god,<br />

a god sun,<br />

who only now begins to see<br />

the nest of light in your eyes.<br />

Adelaida,<br />

flower of bloomed drum<br />

over the shore of iridescent molluscs,<br />

of iridescent and moist flower.<br />

The heels suspended over your head<br />

of drunkened sky,<br />

of colors of Aida Wedo,<br />

letting you fall as a braceled of arid vapor<br />

in the wave of your cradle of water.<br />

Now you brush the lukewarm wave<br />

with your fingers of liana<br />

over the head of Simbi Andezo<br />

in love with the mist.<br />

Drum flower,<br />

flower of iridescent mollusc,<br />

moist flower,<br />

the mist falls over your petals<br />

with drops of voices<br />

that exude a symphony to water<br />

the dreams of your lips.<br />

Adelaida dances with flesh inks<br />

archangel and manly pleasures,<br />

greed, an old absurd sin.<br />

A red sun (the sleeping sun)<br />

infiltrates itself in your blood branch<br />

as the chromatic light<br />

abuses the sex of the moon.<br />

(The dead silence drinks from its sobs).<br />

The wings of the wind of the night<br />

your concave curly fire<br />

the ghost of my fantasies<br />

its pirouettes on your crimson libido,<br />

the gelatinous screams<br />

of your colitogenic hibiscus<br />

crackling spheres of orgasms.<br />

You are carnal,<br />

carnal, invented sin.<br />

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Adelaida,<br />

night undresses your legs.<br />

The night arrives with slow wings<br />

to a poem country which excavates the mystery.<br />

Night,<br />

flight of the Zobop,<br />

death of dead silence.<br />

Cric crac, the stories.<br />

tell me the history<br />

of that golden and sun wind<br />

dead without being able to offer you<br />

the aroma of the Mirabilis jalapa flowers.<br />

Samuel Gregoire, Born 1983, Haiti. Resides in Dominican Republic.<br />

Studied Engineering an business administration. Samuel has a background in French,<br />

experimental poetry, and human rights in Journalist practices. With additional experience<br />

in radio, teaching, and creative coordination.Samuel has been included in several<br />

publications including the international anthology of Poetry by Mateo Morrison and<br />

his most recent book Simulacros de Paraisos y otros renacidos, 2018.<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 17


A time of endings<br />

(after Ezio Bosso Rain, in your black eyes<br />

with images by Joris Ivens.).<br />

drop by drop<br />

a man knows the earth is changing<br />

and hurries on<br />

the streets do not wait for him<br />

despite their eternity<br />

and trapped in patience<br />

the past walks still across the water<br />

or huddles head-down<br />

like a gathering of umbrellas<br />

in a field at the mercy of transfigured clouds<br />

from inside the darkness a shimmer trembles<br />

it paints light in corners of waiting<br />

Peter Boyle is a Sydney-based poet<br />

and translator of poetry from Spanish<br />

and French. In 2017 he won the New<br />

South Wales Premier’s Prize for poetry<br />

with his book Ghostspeaking.<br />

His latest collection is Enfolded in the<br />

Wings of a Great Darkness (Vagabond<br />

Press, 2019).<br />

it pools in your eyes<br />

flutters underneath the wheels<br />

of some ancient grinding machine<br />

for used lives<br />

drifts in the upside down world<br />

where horses harvest the drizzle steaming off pavements<br />

where a faint hesitation in the wind that starts to turn<br />

carries the explosion of an Empire ending<br />

a pond under rain becomes a ribcage<br />

girls scurry,<br />

shielding the white of exposed legs under a blanket<br />

everyone goes by holding their breath upward<br />

the earth cracks like overladen glass<br />

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P E T E R B O Y L E<br />

The plea<br />

after Margaret Olley, Portrait in the Mirror.<br />

So wide and open<br />

there above the flowers the fruit<br />

the tacked-up photographs the saints<br />

a haloed woman her stretched body<br />

almost swimming woman<br />

at spindle or waterwheel<br />

counting out the measures of her life<br />

While the mask (turned side on)<br />

male or female? pouts its lips<br />

in some forever repressed<br />

cry of self or of the world<br />

The twined small buds of flowers reach towards you<br />

towards us conch shells or funnels turn<br />

announcing only their silence<br />

In the mirror<br />

the world before you is all blue<br />

soothing its distances<br />

Will I meet you again?<br />

Swept elsewhere<br />

holding elsewhere<br />

your eyes that plead:<br />

Travellers among tarnished fruit<br />

and fallen saints<br />

all this and I am gone<br />

remember me<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 19


Heart’s Migration<br />

Move deeper into the poem.<br />

Find<br />

the secret not yet whispered<br />

lover to lover,<br />

epidermis to epidermis,<br />

galaxy to galaxy. Find<br />

the gaudy colors, the tired itinerant, the broken accordion,<br />

the torn shawl, the child beggar, the layers of betrayal.<br />

Deeper.<br />

Find the street vendor and the swollen rain cloud,<br />

the wind that moves her loosened hair across her face.<br />

Find<br />

the day before the storm broke,<br />

his clenched hand resting on the table.<br />

Deeper.<br />

Find the eye of the storm,<br />

the hoarse cry of the poem.<br />

Janice D. Soderling is an award-winning writer and translator whose<br />

credits include Acumen, the Beloit Poetry Journal, Event, Fiddlehead,<br />

Glimmer Train, Malahat Review, Other Poetry and Tipton Poetry Journal.<br />

Her work is represented in anthologies and can be read online at<br />

42opus, Our Stories, Babel Fruit, The Chimaera, Innisfree Poetry Journal,<br />

Lucid Rhythms, Loch Raven Review, Right Hand Pointing and Umbrella.<br />

Forthcoming work at Anon, Blue Unicorn, Centrifugal Eye, Literary<br />

Mama, and Mezzo Cammin. Janice was born in the United States,<br />

but lives in Sweden.<br />

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JANICE D. SODERLING<br />

Husband, I Said<br />

Husband, I said, you cannot make amends.<br />

The worm gnaws the apple. The fallen apples rot.<br />

(No answer came.) The worms gnaw the apples.<br />

It may rain today or not.<br />

The worms attend. The fallen apples rot.<br />

Husband, I said, the worm is in the apple and that lie was one too many.<br />

The pretty worms stopped nibbling. They listened. (No answer came.)<br />

It may not rain today.<br />

The red distends with rot. You cannot make amends.<br />

All the little mouths returned to nibbling. (No answer came.)<br />

Husband, I said, that girl was one too many. Worms gnaw our apples.<br />

It may rain today or not.<br />

The little mouths drill deep into my flesh. (No answer came.)<br />

The apples fall, the apples rot. And what about the rain?<br />

That pretty friend was one too many, Husband. A marriage is an orchard<br />

and you cannot make amends. Every little mouth lies with its hunger.<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS <strong>21</strong>


WITNESS<br />

ECUADOR’S<br />

UNREST<br />

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ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 23<br />

Photo by David Diaz<br />

for: Bloomberg


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ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS Photo by David 25 Diaz


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ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS Photo by David 27 Diaz


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ABOUT DAVID DIAZ. Communicator, documentary Storyteller. Member of Fluxus Photo.<br />

Diaz has worked in several State programs and various NGOs giving workshops and being<br />

producer of photographic and audiovisual content focused on Edu-Communication, Gender,<br />

Human Rights and Territory.<br />

Diaz has also been part of several TV Programs and is Collaborator for Bloomberg Cannabis<br />

<strong>Magazine</strong>, Spain. Bistandsaktuelt, Norway. and My News Desk, Denmark.<br />

He has published his work in the Washington Post, BBC News, DulceEquisNegra <strong>Magazine</strong>,<br />

Argentina. G1 Global News, Brazil. Le Monde, Commerce Peru. Digital media such as:<br />

Midia Ninja, Brazil. El Salto, Mex. Interference, Chile GK, Latin Faction, Pressenza, Bex Latin<br />

American Photography. among other assignments for UNHCR / UN.<br />

IG: @diaz.arcos<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 29


Photo by David Diaz<br />

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ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 31


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R<br />

E<br />

D<br />

Speaking of unrest...<br />

D<br />

Surely you’ve seen/heard/experienced the current turmoil<br />

running through the veins of Latin America and the world.<br />

There’s casualties all over the place and it is logical to feel<br />

fear, because we’ve been trained to be afraid of our governments,<br />

but fear is not an excuse to stand still in the face of<br />

human right violations and uncertainty.<br />

O<br />

If for some reason you find yourself in a location or situation<br />

where you find injustice and corruption taking over, (and it is<br />

most likely that you are already in it), stand up, speak up, and<br />

join those who like you, have chosen change.<br />

Remember that art, too, can be a form of activism.<br />

Rembember that activism, too, can be a form of art.<br />

O<br />

Here’s a compilation of very basic instructions for our current<br />

days and times, for you to protect your beautiful eyes and<br />

identities while you go fight the patriarchy.<br />

R<br />

It’s handwritten because so is the revolution.<br />

Take notes and pass it around.<br />

Love and poetry always,<br />

Madam N E V E R S T O P<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 33


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ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 35


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ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 39


THE HOUSE THAT JAN BUILT<br />

BY BRANDON DAVIS<br />

Jan Vandendorpe is a Belgian born artist/architect living in Catalonia on an eco-estate that he designed<br />

and built himself. At age 64, Jan continues to sculpt, paint and draw while tirelessly maintaining<br />

the estate and planning for the future. He recently created a not-for-profit foundation as a way to<br />

open up the time and space to artists, thinkers, makers and doers in an effort to create a sustainable<br />

future.<br />

I first met Jan a few years ago when I was visiting my mother-in-law in the South of France. She took<br />

us just over the border to meet her friends and that’s when it happened. I saw the place, I met the man<br />

and I changed my mind.<br />

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Other than his fantastic hair and burning eyes, one of the first things you will notice about Jan Vandendorpe<br />

is his intense energy. He is a charming and friendly man with a generous spirit. He’s also a<br />

complete weirdo. You’d have to be in order to lead the life that he has lead up to this point.<br />

In the 90s Jan had a successful architecture firm in Ghent when he and his wife bought and fixed<br />

up an old farmhouse in an isolated region of the Pyrenes in Southern France. After her unexpected<br />

passing, Jan spent the next 6 years in total isolation living and healing and subconsciously documenting<br />

the process in an endless series of sketchbooks, paintings and sculptures. The resulting<br />

work creates a Jungian autobiography; the life of a true spirit.<br />

And almost nobody has seen it. That’s where I come in.<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 41


The house that Jan built is made from the ruins of an old farmhouse on 12<br />

hectares of olive trees. It is surrounded by mountains and about a 5 kilometers<br />

from the nearest village with a population of 300 people. The original<br />

idea was to create a retreat center for a certain group of people. Those people<br />

made a series of bad moves and were no longer a part of the picture. Jan<br />

being Jan, he finished the project and built out the spaces with immaculate<br />

attention to detail creating a self-sustainable masterpiece of architecture.<br />

Above the garage is Jan’s studio where he works constantly. Current works<br />

include a 2 meter sculpture of a figure hanging by two fingers and a series<br />

of paintings on wood panels that appear to represent the moment where<br />

totality and nothingness intersect.<br />

Over 40 years of work is stored throughout the compound. There was a<br />

good deal of it burned a long time ago in an event that can only be called<br />

a really good bad idea, but there is plenty more where that came from. In<br />

these works you will see landscapes that have an erotic nature, heavenly<br />

grotesque figures and portals of all dimensions. The narrative revealed is a<br />

trip through the amazon, a couple of comas and the never ending attempt<br />

to illuminate the substance of life.<br />

42 www.reddoormagazine.com


But the buildings and the art works are only a part of the big picture. What<br />

Jan has created is a way to experience life. Everyone who comes here tells me<br />

about their different perception of time and space and energy when they are<br />

here. There is a tree out front that is approximately 800 years old. There is a<br />

rock formation out back the is 5,000 years old. There are five wild horses and<br />

wilder winds. And there is the earth, the sky and the universe right in front of<br />

your face.<br />

My wife and I moved out here a year ago to find a way to make this thing<br />

“work.” Our first thought was to host an artists residency out here, and we’re<br />

doing that. But the realization of what is possible has lead us to reach further.<br />

We have created Fundación Flaquer, named after the original name of the<br />

farmhouse, in order to facilitate the development of sustainable practices in<br />

the fields of art, architecture, design, economics and any other means necessary<br />

to live for tomorrow, today!<br />

Our Foundation work is just beginning to take shape. There is plenty of work<br />

to be done and maybe YOU can get involved. Visit us on the web or in the<br />

real world to find out how. You can start by going to our website: www.fundacionflaquer.com<br />

and the next step is up to you.<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 43


GIVE IT TO THE GRAND CANYON<br />

BY NOAH CICERO<br />

A REVIEW BY ELIZABETH TORRES<br />

I first heard of Noah after my crash arrival to Denmark and sudden breakup which led to<br />

my very improvised decision of sticking around and rebuilding my life in this city, because<br />

every other city I had inhabited felt broken and full of ghosts to me. So I found myself in Copenhagen,<br />

volunteering at a bookshop, drinking a bit too much, but filling myself with all the books<br />

in the world since I knew the opportunity to read so often can be temporary. i read the Human<br />

War, and decided that Noah and I had similar thought-processes and could one day go for a nice<br />

walk together and hopefully develop a nice friendship. Since Noah doesn’t often go for walks in<br />

Denmark, the closest thing was becoming friends on social media, and we’ve exchanged a few<br />

conversations throughout the years, which is how I ended up volunteering to write about his new<br />

book for this issue of <strong>Red</strong> <strong>Door</strong>.<br />

The book arrived right before I headed to the airport on my way to Greenland, almost as if the stars<br />

conspired to ensure that I had the chance to get the task of reading done in a good setting.<br />

To cover the basics, this book is titled GIVE IT TO THE GRAND CANYON. It’s 155 pages long,<br />

released in 2019 by Philosophical Idiot in Phillipsburg, NJ, with a beautiful cover image titled “Kop<br />

can een koningsgier of condor (Gypagus Papa)” by M.E van den Brink Bequest, Velp + a cover by<br />

Olivia M. Croom, and clearly designated to the area of fiction in the bookshelves, as stated in the<br />

copyright segment, repeatedly. It is light enough to be carried on a hike, and its pages smell nice.<br />

The back has two nice quotes by other authors about Noah. Blake Middleton (author of College<br />

Novel) says “Like Peyote, Give it to the Grand Canyon will give you what you need, whatever that<br />

might be”, and Brian Alan Ellis (author of Sad Laughter) adds that “Noah Cicero is a poet, a prince<br />

and a prophet and his latest book Give it to the Grand Canyon is a gift you did not think you needed<br />

(..)”.<br />

44 www.reddoormagazine.com


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Noah cicero is an American author who grew up in a small town<br />

near Youngstown, Ohio. He has lived in Eugene, Oregon, the Grand Canyon, Arizona, and<br />

Seoul, South Korea. Cicero currently resides in Las vegas, Nevada. He has a movie made<br />

of his first book called The Human War, which won the 2014 Beloit Film Festival Award<br />

for Best Screenplay. He has books translated into Turkish, Kurdish and Spanish. His first<br />

book of poetry, Bipolar Cowboy, was voted one of the best books in Goodreads 2015.<br />

Learn more about Noah Cicero at neutralspaces.co/noahcicero<br />

There is something very reassuring in Noah’s writing. I’m not just saying that he really<br />

knows what he is doing, I am underscoring the fact that when you read his books you don’t just<br />

get but relate to what he is talking about. I do not know that he’s prophet nor prince (aren’t we<br />

all?) but I can confirm that he’s a poet, and I committed the sacrilege of bending the pages of<br />

the book for the phrases that I liked until the top of the book became twice as fat because of so<br />

many folded pages. Just so you know that I am not simply praising, I for some random reason<br />

also folded the bottom side of the pages whenever I found a spelling mistake, and there was a<br />

few of those, too. But that’s irrelevant. Let me show you. I will do this oracle style, opening any of<br />

the folded pages. Listen to this:<br />

“It might be possible that there is only one good planet in the whole system, I had been to the<br />

top of Colorado Rockies, I saw that no food grew there. With a deviation of 12,000 feet nothing<br />

grows. We had so much luck, the planet is magnetic and reflects solar flares, we have water and<br />

land, the planet isn’t covered with ice, all of it isn’t desert. But we are the planet, humans aren’t<br />

separate from the planet, they are the planet, just like the water that floods and destroys the land,<br />

humans are the same as drought that kills animals, humans are the same as lightning that burns<br />

down a forest, humans are the same as a shark eating a school of fish, we aren’t any different.<br />

Is that an excuse?”.<br />

The talks about nature and planet and humankind, breakup and reconstruction, melancholy,<br />

self destruction and landscapes hit harder because each day I would get off the ship into a different<br />

area in Greenland, each night I would read more of the book, and off I would go again to<br />

explore this great island, and hear about how Americans left mines in isolated areas used for<br />

army exercises that local communities can’t touch, and how the permafrost is sinking and animals<br />

and vegetation are struggling, and as the main character broke down and had an anxiety<br />

attack much similar to the ones I’ve come accostumed too, I too began to weep in front of the<br />

great Raindeer Glacier in Kangerlussuaq. It was a combination of where i was, and where Billy<br />

was, in the Grand Canyon, half lost, half approaching enlightenment, even if only temporarily.<br />

I still believe that Noah and I could probably enjoy a lot of good conversations due to similar<br />

interests and “common places” of things I have found in his writing. I do not know when this<br />

will happen but in the meantime I am content traveling with his characters. If I add anything else<br />

to this review I might spoil the book for you, so please just get your hands on a copy and let me<br />

know what moved you. And if you get a chance visit the places that bring you back alive. Be it<br />

Greenland or the Grand Canyon or other locations that don’t start with a G, do it now, while we’re<br />

still here, they’re still there, and feeling things is still allowed.<br />

(and please leave the places as undisturbed as when you found them).<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 45


TIDAL<br />

ECONOMICS<br />

---<br />

SELECTED POEMS<br />

Please click on the images<br />

to see the visual poetry in the voice of the author.<br />

46 www.reddoormagazine.com


TEX KERSCHEN<br />

ART<br />

Had you been surrounded<br />

by white stones<br />

and long trees<br />

with thin fingers<br />

and new leaves;<br />

you may have known<br />

who you were<br />

when you began.<br />

You may have known it then.<br />

Tex Kerschen is a poet, musician<br />

and visual artist originating from<br />

Houston. A gifted showman, a skilled<br />

writer and a worldthreader, too.<br />

http://texkerschen.com/<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 47


D A N I E L M A L P I C A<br />

48 www.reddoormagazine.com


Identities mix and interlace in the big cities of the future. Languages become<br />

fluid and humanity begins to develop new techniques of communication and<br />

information to adapt to the speed an rythm of the ever-changing algorithms of<br />

life all around us.<br />

In the heart of Helsinki, a poet stands strong through adversity and the challenges<br />

of a still-broken immigration system that jeopardizes the life and projects he’s<br />

been building not just in Finland, but throughout the Nordic countries in collaborations<br />

and partnerships with many key players in Scandinavian cities, artists and<br />

creators... and among them, the <strong>Red</strong> <strong>Door</strong> network.<br />

Although this is the first time Daniel’s work is included in this magazine, Daniel<br />

has been an active partner and collaborator of <strong>Red</strong> <strong>Door</strong> through the creation<br />

and development of ideas, projects and events that involve a multimedia aspect<br />

and the transnationality concept that echoes in our veins. But today, let us be<br />

direct and speak of him and his work.<br />

Daniel is originally from Mexico and introduces himself as a graphic designer,<br />

multimedia artist and poet, but he is also a board memer of the Finnish PEN,<br />

which fights for writers’ freedom of expression, and also collaborates with other<br />

local organizations, such as Globe Art Point.<br />

His performances often involve multimedia aspects and other sound elements,<br />

and can include masks, typewriters, other artists from various nationalities performing<br />

alongside, projections, mapping and of course... poetry.<br />

In episode #6 of the <strong>Red</strong> Transmissions podcast he shares with us his creative<br />

process, the thought of the X as a sygil that reflects identity, the crossing of paths<br />

and literary forms, and much more.<br />

visit theredtransmissions.com or follow <strong>Red</strong> Transmissions on a podcast provider<br />

near you.<br />

www.danielmalpica.com<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 49


X-WRITTEN<br />

We feel a more powerful presence / like a fish bowl for our poems that are fish / How many times did<br />

we want to grab the stars in the simplest of ways / without any thunder at all to string the poem between<br />

the two stars / as if it was just about “indicating” with words / but these days only love defeats<br />

us and numerical poems shatter one by one / Not for that / have I stopped writing / not for that / have I<br />

stopped taking your lips / in the gesture the reader makes while silently mouthing / Maybe I am reading<br />

you in this line / for it is said something happens after crossing this point. / It would be terrible never<br />

to think of me as an “a” answer / and dare to chew on a speech for myself only / mine / too much<br />

mine / but a leaf has both faces / in the folds new concepts are formed and the rhetoric of things will<br />

not suffice as the wall on which it is disposed / You’ve known about this for so long Girondo / realities<br />

superposed on realities / Per aspera ad astra / folding in the most rigorous way / origami of the word<br />

/ brotherhood and mimesis among cultures for in the universe one single mother / Something must<br />

be different / we grow up among the foundational and immediate classics of the individual / not<br />

from those antiquated monuments / indivisible / from the historic self I mean / but from the sensorial<br />

elements of the present / of life now / One afternoon / among the streets of that completely dead city<br />

I made a paper amphibian with the text of a speech on protocol / Darío, upon seeing me, observed,<br />

“You know, / getting to this place / and now watching you shaping the piece of paper with such simplicity<br />

/ something told me we had been together in another time... / and / before I wandered these<br />

streets / before coming across this promenade of ghosts / in my own house / I had a dream in which<br />

someone was practicing origami / then I found out I had already dreamt you” / I don’t know Darío /<br />

there are people that we do not know until we make them up / After this moment narrative was no<br />

longer possible and we went on with the poem. / Cosmos for death / Chaos for renovation / So how<br />

is it that an element of two dimensions acquires that third plane? Even so, it is possible to deduce<br />

reality from something we do not see / Each dimension perceives the world in relation to its consequent<br />

dimension: / the line perceives the dot / base and height perceive the line / the third dimension<br />

observes its surroundings in two dimensions and only understands itself, I repeat, by deduction; /<br />

like that time we moved across our flat earth and eventually got to the same place / a line became<br />

circle / a circle became sphere / and this poem needs you to acquire its depth / the reader poet and<br />

the writer poet, together we become spatial origami / traveling in the interior of language / through<br />

worm-holes that twist in pupils like an interrogation / origami over word ships / in the fusion and deconstruction<br />

of symbols / Everything nurtures and interrelates with itself / every thing is like a “like” /<br />

and the basic engineering of this poem comes from sci-fi: / X-Wing / But more fun than categorization<br />

/ is accepting the existing elements as pieces of potential new ensembles / technological marvels /<br />

literary marvels that go spiraling & spiraling / secular / cyclical without repeating themselves in the<br />

same spot / In a way / at this stage of the universe / all form tends towards the destruction of form /<br />

towards disintegration in the search for constant balance / so this texts deconstructs, reunites, appropriates<br />

and fragments itself / Spatial origami I said / like in those songs where the voices overlap until<br />

they are a thick paste / strictly speaking irrational / but loaded, concurrently, with information / I come<br />

back to you Darío / I come back to you as a resource / Between dreams and reality there is an infinity<br />

of folds / from the word / that names / and transforms itself: 折 り 紙 / papiroflexia / cocotology / That’s<br />

it / I come back to you to get to others / to name them / because poetry ought to be counted among<br />

the sciences [...] because science and poetry are nothing other, if we examine it, than a precise naming...<br />

/ Yes, taking up again that biblical idea of creation through the word / but ultimately / this is not<br />

a piece of paper / it is another thing / and those other things will always be at your discretion, and the<br />

discretion of the dissolution of the edges / of the piece of paper if you wish it.<br />

Translation by Aurelio Meza<br />

50 www.reddoormagazine.com


BY DANIEL MALPICA<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 51


t h e<br />

N E O N<br />

R E B E L L I O N<br />

52 www.reddoormagazine.com


Im wondering …<br />

Why is it the litter I see on the street is always McDonalds bags +<br />

cups with single use plastic lids + straws that have been thrown<br />

out a car window 10 mins after leaving the drive through …?<br />

Why are people flooding Leonardo Di Caprio’s comments on a<br />

post of him + Greta Thunberg with insults about a 16 year old<br />

girl who he has openly stated admiration for because of her dedication<br />

to climate awareness action, which he shares?<br />

Why is a national tv host calling activists who chose to take<br />

peaceful yet disruptive social action by lying on the road to stop<br />

traffic, “speed humps that should be run over” ..?<br />

Why are so many people, namely The President Of The United<br />

States calling climate change “fake news” when there is an overwhelming<br />

amount of scientific evidence to support it?<br />

Is it just me or are people fucking stupid?<br />

I mean really fucking stupid.<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 53


There is no reason for any of these things to be happening except utter stupidity + a determination to<br />

hang onto a system that supports capitalism + all its ideas that dont support anything living.<br />

In response to this, my activism takes its form in art + an impending performance art piece being created.<br />

I made these videos which could be like prequels.<br />

I am aligned with the global protest movement Extinction Rebellion through non-violent direct action<br />

seeking to raise the alarm on ecological crises + the impending extinction of our planet, due to<br />

climate change.<br />

We must make transitions to a sustainable world for our very survival.<br />

We cannot control nature with technology, despite all the arrogance + ignorance that thinks we can.<br />

We will not be silenced.<br />

-The Neon Rebel.<br />

(click on the images on pg. 38 to see the videos).<br />

Footnote: 15/11/2019.<br />

Fire is still blazing across the east coast of Australia, it’s been over a week breathing smoke filled<br />

air as nearby old growth rainforest continues to burn ... These are the worst bushfires ever seen +<br />

as predicted globally they will continue as the planet heats up from destroying forests + continued<br />

excessive use of fossil fuels ...<br />

.<br />

There is not enough rain fall in these areas + yet there is flooding on other parts of the planet.<br />

.<br />

The Balance is out.<br />

.<br />

As the Australian Govt. slides further to the dirty right + it maintains its position as one of the worst<br />

on climate agenda seeking to dodge + undermine agreements + clean energy development that<br />

address global warming on carbon emissions in favour of investment in continued unsound energy<br />

production.<br />

.<br />

Meanwhile the people suffer from harsher crippling taxes that dont serve them (like carbon tax<br />

which is a failed scheme + could be put towards clean energy solutions which would significantly<br />

turn things around) + regulations are brought in to disperse public protests or gatherings controlling<br />

our civil rights + freedom of speech.<br />

.<br />

Countries like Sweden dedicated to climate action are distancing themselves + removing investments<br />

from Australia because of these policies + old draconian views.<br />

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ISSUE # BY <strong>21</strong> - MELAINE TRANSITIONS KNIGHT 55


ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 57


R<br />

E<br />

The <strong>Red</strong> Transmissions podcast aims to document the work,<br />

behind-the-scenes moments and creative process of the<br />

D<br />

incredibly interesting characters in our network, be it in<br />

Copenhagen, New York, or around the world where our correspondents<br />

find themselves or our poetic adventures take us.<br />

D<br />

Find out why artists, activists and worldthreaders do what they<br />

do, how they do it, and hear about the inner workings of their<br />

projects. Contemporary happenings and conversations on<br />

O<br />

culture, music, art, film, poetry, environment and independent<br />

projects around the planet. WE EXIST!<br />

Want to share your story with us?<br />

O<br />

Write to: theredtransmissions@gmail.com<br />

R<br />

58 www.reddoormagazine.com


ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 59


In this issue, participating from various countries<br />

and continents, our gratitude goes to the following people:<br />

Mercedes Roffé pg 6-7<br />

Filip Naudts & Julie O’Yan pg 8-9<br />

Aieisa Riballa pg 10-11<br />

Misia Martus<br />

pg 12-15 (and featured cover art)<br />

Samuel Gregoire pg 16-17<br />

Peter Boyle pg 18-19<br />

Janice D. Soderling pg 20-<strong>21</strong><br />

David Diaz pg 22-31<br />

Brandon Davis pg 40-43<br />

Noah Cicero pg 44-45<br />

Tex Kerschen pg 46-47<br />

Daniel Malpica pg 48 - 51<br />

Melaine Knight pg 52-57<br />

Illustrations by Madam Neverstop.<br />

Find us on instagram as @reddoorkdk<br />

Podcast: @red_transmissions<br />

Everything else at: @madamneverstop<br />

60 www.reddoormagazine.com


<strong>21</strong><br />

D<br />

R<br />

E<br />

<strong>Red</strong> <strong>Door</strong> <strong>Magazine</strong> releases digital<br />

issues quarterly with an emphasis on<br />

visual art.<br />

As you can see on this issue, we also<br />

welcome art and poetry, LGBTQ & other<br />

activism content, thoughtful<br />

D<br />

essays,<br />

photography, adventure stories &<br />

media articles, + occasional interviews<br />

by established and emerging artists.<br />

We’re here to give you a handful of<br />

essential pieces you can digest in one<br />

sitting.<br />

The magazine also includes a calendar<br />

for events happening in our gallery, but<br />

will sometimes mention collaborations<br />

with other projects, or events<br />

happening elsewhere worth noting.<br />

O<br />

We’re currently seeking visual art,<br />

music, film, travel and<br />

O<br />

media articles,<br />

poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.<br />

Simultaneous submissions are always<br />

ok, and if you have a piece accepted<br />

elsewhere, please let us know by<br />

adding a note to your submission.<br />

Please send your content to<br />

submit@reddoorkbh.dk<br />

R<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong> - TRANSITIONS 61


R<br />

E<br />

D<br />

D<br />

O<br />

ISSUE # <strong>21</strong><br />

O<br />

T R A N S I T I O N S<br />

R<br />

www.reddoormagazine.com

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