on the coffin rock

WILL WE EVER KNOW where the world went when you once held my gaze from across a sea of madding crowd? Was it this place, an unknowable room for things lost? The space between paper and inkblots, between wingbeats: a lesser infinity whose hiddenness rivals...

I SHALL REMEMBER YOU with a memory I have had in my childhood. One of my very first, really. It was past noon at Lola's, your home. I went straight for the balcony (which was where all the Almenanza grandkids went to hang in those good ol' days). Trudging...

READING Murakami has always felt like walking downhill, along a strange street, alongside a stream in search of the shortest possible route toward the sea, but gently, quietly, and you follow it with the curiosity of a moth to a flame. And when you finally...

I HAVE NEVER liked the way you make yourself known, like a troubled ghost, sometimes a wave of nausea, a vertigo attack. The way you operate on faults nor how you always catch me unaware when you're there or not there. I have never ever liked the way...