“I’d hear this man’s footsteps above me when in bed, trying to trap the sound of his feet with my eyes…”
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TRANSLATION
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All in Fiction
“I’d hear this man’s footsteps above me when in bed, trying to trap the sound of his feet with my eyes…”
“…I can see it’s a black, shrunken stick about ten feet high, stripped of the bark I once ran my fingers over.”
“I remember the sun was high in the sky and the clearing held a holy quiet, like no human feet had ever marred its face. So, of course I followed.”
“…my parents’ divorce agreement, a tarot deck, an armadillo that sang a funny song when you squeezed its belly…”
“He’s not unreasonable, he tells me. But he’s genuinely alarmed by the extent of the first-round edits.”
“The sky peels back like a tinfoil lid and something putrid creeps in...”
“Everything was ours, our reality untamed by time and misogyny, and the price we’d pay for living remained alien to us.”
“If ever a saint could be described as not giving any fucks, it would be her.”
“He loved the sense that sex could be an intervention between two people.”
“I’ve seen too much writing lately that makes metaphors of hunger.”
“And all along, what happened to that thing we had originally wanted?”
“Words are like heartbeats: sooner or later, we will run out.”
“Normally to be standing wet and naked covered in someone’s shaved hair would be disgusting. And it was.”
“…your hunger became less interesting. Home had been there waiting, right inside of you.”
“There are millions of reasons to be late to a flight and only a very small number of them are desirable.”
“…that peculiar zen-like wisdom that must be as accessible to the unborn as to the dead.”
