Choose Your Own Adventure

She allowed the hum and buzz of the park to lullaby her. Life wasn't about becoming, was it? It was about being. Dr. Kellet would have approved this thought. And everything was ephemeral, yet everything was eternal, she thought sleepily. A dog barked somewhere. A child cried. The child was hers, she could feel the…

A Soft Spot for Custardy Cake

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds. The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things…

Notes from the Underground, Week 7

The game starts again from the beginning. The end is always another beginning.This nightmare of eternity in time, this is our fate. -Margarita Karapanou (Rien ne va plus)┬áIt's strange to think that this series of posts has been going on now for seven weeks. There's a small part of me that wants to resist counting…