Postcard proseIssue 05 | June 2009

What I Know of You, Pippa Bacca

by Angela Hamilton

1. We were in Istanbul, together, just before your last ride.  Perhaps our shoulders touched as we passed on Sıraselviler, not enough room for two.  Did you look at me when I spoke to you?  I would have gone with you.

2. You believed in the goodness of humanity.  Your family believed in your intuition.  Soon, you would float into Israel, in an old Carmengia, your filthy dress shut in the car door, waiting to be released.  You’d sleep that night with the windows open, your bridal habit on a hanger, finding shimmer in the streetlight. 

3. You washed the feet of midwives and watched the women’s needles embroider patterns into your dress:  did one at the hem predict this would happen? 

4. Perhaps those who waited for you in the streets remained for hours before turning back to their homes, lights from kitchens illuminating the worries of a backstreet.

5. We talked about your willingness to step into each car, at the mercy of your driver, a man who could crush your necklace with his fist. 

6. A black van slowed for you, outside of Istanbul. 

7. The woods of Gebze looked over you, words lost in your mouth. 

8. You became fire, then smoke, then air.

9. You reappeared.  Under bushes.  Hair.  Teeth.  Other traces of you would come later.  You asked for something not everyone can give.  I think of my students wearing headscarves and trench coats for protection.  Chastity is a beautiful word.  Clean as white.  White as clean. 

10. You were not wearing your wedding gown when buried in the silent woods as the spring thaw began.

*Giuseppina “Pippa Bacca” Pasqualino di Marineo (1975-2008). Dressed as a bride, this Italian performance artist was raped and murdered while on a hitchhiking peace tour to the Middle East. More information here.

About the author

Angela Hamiltonʼs essays have recently appeared in The MacGuffin, Quarterly West, and The Truth About the Fact. Currently, she teaches at Fatih University in Istanbul.  She can see Asia from her living room window but does not aspire to any sort of political career.

Read our current issue:


Two poems by Anne Babson
Vignette, Townhouse, 9 a.m. by Troy Cunio
Night Becomes Day Over the West by Megan Foley
Yukon River Aurora by D. B. Goman
Two Poems by David Havird
Cretan Love Letter by Emily Linstrom
Holland by Rick Mullin
Fear in Kenya by Kristina Pfleegor
The Lounge Lizard by Ed Shacklee
Two Poems by Sarah J. Sloat
Night Flight by Vicki Stannard
Koinonia Farms by Alina Stefanescu
Thessaloniki, Four a.m. by Anastasia Vassos
Imaginary Oceans by Jason Warren
Two Poems by F. J. Williams

Postcard prose

It’s Salty by Kelly Hill

Travel notes

Anchorage in the Great Land by Karen Benning
The Value of Small Money by Megan Hallinan
Screensaver by Sandra Larson
Thirty Cents by Tommy McAree
Gokarna by Kate McCahill
Going Places by Rachel Miller-Howard
Susanville CA: Notes From The Road by Susan Volchok