Fiction
You Look Just Like Your Sister
The red door to my home opened and the fresh smell of warm turkey and cranberry sauce collided with my senses the way Sticky
Treading The Fire
maybe beauty will remain an abstract dirge; a mantra to be ruminated over like a submerged leek becoming tender in warm water. as it seems
Home No More
I miss your coffee-covered breath, Early in the morning. It made me hungrier than death For a thrill without a warning. I miss your sweet
The God in the Attic
In our attic, among things, as it seems of past lives, lives a bitter God. When guests come to our house, we don’t mention him.
Lichtenberg Figures
The skin is the largest organ of the human body. It insulates and protects. It contains all we are. Fluids, muscles, tissues and bones, shuddering
Fragmented Silence, Fragmented Sound
How do you photograph silence? Is it represented by an empty room? A sleeping baby? A seascape?