The conspiracy of ravens
We are all ravens, creatures of cleverness and survival, hiding our croaks beneath
rules of morality and social complexity.
Pinball; The conspiracy of ravens; Election Sunday; Certificate of bravery; Lonesome George
Fred
After missing my connection in Dallas, I am told by Greyhound staff that sleeping in the station is not permitted. So, I book a room at a motel that is relatively close to the station and reasonably priced. Half hour later, my Lyft driver pulls into the parking lot of the motel, looks into the rearview mirror.
Young lady, you really want me to drop you off here?
True Come Dreams
Out of all the dirty jobs in the world, the worst was working in the spaghetti mines.
The Birdcage
The following morning, Klink seemed totally fine, hopping about in the sunshine. He apparently had already forgotten the events of the preceding night. I told myself, “It was nothing.” Still, I couldn’t shake the thought that I didn’t know where Klink had come from, nor the unsettling feeling that maybe sometimes in that birdcage, he wasn’t alone.
Lower East Side Triptych
We were on the corner of Essex Street and Delancey, across the street from the old Essex Street Retail Market. It was still open for business, though from the outside it looked half derelict and definitely dicey. I could see my aunt staring at the large sign on the side of the building; she was obviously trying to read it, to make sense of the words.
For All I Know
I write so I can remember what it feels like to be a nineteen-year-old girl in college. I write so I know the leaves are changing, who my friends are, what we did this week, and who I want to be now. I write so I remember, and so I never have to feel like a huge part of my life is missing like it is with Catarina.