85 1 2
|
The box on the table is filled with connections to other days.
|
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.
|
97533
|
She calls me by my name. She says I am her daughter.
|
111866
|
This tall, very blonde, very female, friend of mine. . . .
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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.
|
2281010
|
“I love you,” he said. I imagined him falling off a cliff.
|
79543
|
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.
|
118944
|
She served him pie she knew was ruined.
|
1190105
|
Freshly fucked,
Shirley exhaled enjoying the lingering sensations. She always felt lighter after a good orgasm, and this had been one for the record books.
|
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.
|
12651210
|
I hate math. I hate everything about it.
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