Nov 17, 2018 | Fiction |
At some time all cities have this feel: in London it’s at five or six on a winter evening. Paris has it too, late, when the cafes are closing up. In New York it can happen anytime: early in the morning as the light climbs over the canyon streets and the avenues...
May 1, 2016 | Fiction |
From the Veranda of the Room of the Last Chrysanthemum at the MagistracyThe Ninth Day of the Ninth Month Gulls wheel through spokes of sunlight over gracious roofs and dowdy thatch, snatching entrails at the marketplace and escaping over cloistered gardens,...
Dec 20, 2006 | Fiction |
Lil and I had met and mated when we were both twenty-five. We formed a deep, irrational, obviously neurotic need for one another: love – one of society’s many socially accepted forms of madness. We got married: society’s solution to loneliness, lust...
