Nov 10, 2008 | Fiction |
He opened the book at random, or so he believed, but a book is like a sandy path that keeps the indent of footsteps. He had read from this one to Sam several times during the last two years, but the footsteps of his own childhood had dug deeper and the book opened on...
Oct 28, 2008 | Fiction |
It surprised him, as though, in penetrating a familiar cave, on some holiday at the sea, he had observed on a familiar rock the primeval painting of a human face which he had always mistaken before for a chance pattern of fungi.
