May 27, 2023 | Fiction |
I walked off in the direction of Primrose Hill. Ignoring my mother’s maxim that only whores smoked outdoors, I took out my cigarettes. Ever since I took up the habit, I have loved smoking more than anything. Smoking is a veil. I adore every aspect of it: the...
Nov 23, 2019 | Fiction |
A five year-old in 1968 paints a picture. What’s in it? First, a mother, giver of paper and paints, saying Make me something beautiful. Then a house with a door floating in the air, and a chimney with curls of spiraling smoke. Then four Appich children in...
