1091 3 3
|
I contemplate the words that did not make it; the lost ones. The words deprived of their moment in the sun. These words. These words that are not part of the story.
|
900
|
she suppurates, supplicates, operates, dredges through phrases she shakes, licks the truth from burnt edges, attempts to articulate fate from the ashes while Pluto, her final date, waits without passion.
|
98253
|
The bar was dark and a little dirty, and that suited Splinker's mood just fine.
|
103922
|
From my place, down here amongst the earth, we have many names for you.
|
129264
|
Sophie is a cat. I tell you this upfront so as not to get you all wound up about moral angst, Nazi's or a mother's love.
|
82522
|
For Takama this created the second conundrum of the day. One even bigger than the first. When he’d first learnt that sensei and he would be boarding a flight together for a series of demonstrations in Geneva, little had he expected he would be locked up i
|
112555
|
How would you like to leave the land of your ancestors, the place of your birth, the home of your identity?
|
209129
|
--What happened? Where are your shoes?
--They were slippers, she said. And they were too big. They were my mum's, besides.
--Well, what happened to them? It's frigid.
--They fell off. I lost them crossing the street. One of them. The other was taken aw
|
121155
|
Where you used to exist, there will only be spaces.
|
1090219
|
There is a small church in the south of Italy, with a stained-glass window depicting the sister of John The Baptist.
|
79643
|
There is a dead factory. It sits on the tip of a small piece of land which extends into a forgotten lake, like a giant dirty-inked thumb pressed against a faded blue sheet of paper.
|
114574
|
Truman sits in his car on an early Tuesday morning. He rolls down both front windows down, but despite the infusion of fresh air, the car still smells of stale meat and sickness.
|
101062
|
It was only two days before Christmas. Jonathan remembered his mother crying.
|
5832
|
Truman sits in his car on an early Tuesday morning. He rolls down both front windows down, but despite the infusion of fresh air, the car still smells of stale meat and sickness.
|
12671210
|
I hate math. I hate everything about it.
|
