Archive for the ‘ prose ’ Category
There is no such thing as fishing. A fisherman does not catch fish. He has no control of fish – he has nothing to do with them. He merely casts his line and waits. The fish do the rest. Living is the same. You have no control of life – it has nothing to do [ READ MORE ]
The harsh fumes of toxins and ash filled my nostrils, saturating the inner cartilage and hair with the intolerable stench of things lost forever. I sat on the curb while the firefighters ran up to the flames with hoses, aged and dirty, dragging through puddles of gasoline and waste water left behind by yesterday’s storm. [ READ MORE ]
Hang on. Just a little bit longer. He had to finish his masterpiece. A messy black mark across pure white cement, with the porous grains of rock breathing in the goo, sucking it up. Right then large fingers encircled his arms, and he was caught. 2 officers with blue caps dragging his torso back from the [ READ MORE ]
