After the crash, we float like ghosts, moving about the old main street unnoticed and silently marveling at the high pitched roofs and tall windows of these old houses, taking in the glow of warm light of the interiors. The long incandescent puddles projecting out through the panes onto the thick blanket of silencing snow… Continue reading After the crash we float like ghosts
There is a room full of young women lounging in or at the edges of inviting pools of water. The room has an otherworldly atmosphere, with dim, colored lighting and biomorphic curves in the walls and ceilings. It feels, looks like a grotto; like some ethereal rendering of a subterranean brothel. On low ledges all… Continue reading Elegant instruments, arrayed in bowls
“I don’t see what you mean,” said Henrietta, distracted— in fact in a quite new kind of pain. She saw only too well that this inquisition had no bearing on [her] at all, that Leopold was not even interested in hurting, and was only tweaking her petals off or her wings off with the intention… Continue reading The terror strange children feel
This afternoon after brunch Jon and I did some cycling around Rochester to some vintage and antique shops and secondhand book shops. Most of this haul was found at Small World Books, a shambling old house on North Street in which every room is walled with books, and several cats reside. We were in there no longer than… Continue reading Saturday’s literary treasures
Book Club followed up Goon Squad with How Should A Person Be? by Sheila Heti. I’m going to skip the majority of our collective critique points from Saturday and keep it short: it reads as a collection of personal essays or do-dads (a blog) written by a person in her twenties, with a few toothless fictions thrown… Continue reading How should a person write?
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 