No matter how you try to ignore it, you look like him. You look like your father.
The collective failure of ethical standards
I slumped in front of a massive desk, a passive patient corroded with failure and dread.
four-thirty a.m.
Sitting at the bar on Pacific Avenue. With the seashells in the walls. Same bartender from last year, still here, making the same lethal Mai Tais.
People have always coped with flooding, and they learned to cope with death.
I’msorry I‘ll see what happens iLife
another self emerges between assignments, to follow the dog into winter dusk and watch the snow fall. Not sociable, but perceiving
My mother has been dead for two hundred and forty-three days. I’ve had plenty of things in my refrigerator for longer.
the search for a wayward self
Her brown eyes, how a fig considers itself.
Infant’s Name: A Delivery Date: August 1, 2002
Sound engineers believe Alan Rickman possessed the perfect male voice. Early acting teachers told him he sounded like he was speaking from the back of a drainpipe.
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