at times oneiric confession at times philosophical contemplation in epistolary form An Absence of Sea unfolds as a breathless letter to the other a lover a double the sea time itself tracing the shadowed terrain where self meets its echo where longing takes on form where thought becomes touch moving through the quiet of solitude it follows the fragile carnal continuity of existence a gesture of return where the impossible is the only home that holds us a poetics of knowing and being known through the gaze through touch through the echo of another

//

CHRISTINA TUDOR-SIDERI is a writer, translator, and researcher whose work unfolds at the crossroads of literature, philosophy, and critical theory. Her research engages with the phenomenology of time, death studies, the philosophy of film, the aporetics of memory, language, and the [absent] body. Her literary and philosophical work is informed by an enduring interest in phenomenology, particularly how temporality, memory, and finitude shape human experience. She is the author of Under the Sign of the Labyrinth, a book-length essay examining the structural entanglement of myth, deferral, and ephemerality in human existence; the novels Disembodied and Schism Blue, which stage the dislocation of the self and the Other across nonlinear temporalities; and If I Had Not Seen Their Sleeping Faces, a collection of fragments that interrogates the limits of presence, witnessing, and mnemonic trace in the face of death. Her forthcoming monograph, Reliquary: A Phenomenology of Kept Time, undertakes an investigation of temporality, archival desire, and the phenomenological status of preservation. Her translation work, aimed at recovering underrepresented literary voices, includes texts by Max Blecher, Magda Isanos, Anna de Noailles, Mihail Sebastian, and Ilarie Voronca. Across both creative and theoretical domains, her research remains concerned with the question of how language bears the imprint of absence, finitude, and the irreducible Other. She writes with the conviction that literature is both a mirror and a threshold, and that to write is to dwell, however briefly, within the paradoxes that make us human.