We were going to make big money, Ray and I, money enough to pay for my Caribbean life.
Running to the Caymans
Touched
The little girl was not a particularly beautiful child. Cute, in a gangly, grubby, natural way: thin stringy hair, knobby knees, one front tooth missing, the other a new too-large adult tooth.
The Memory Police by Yoko Ogawa
The Memory Police approaches Kafka in its literary excellence, which is a startling surprise. It’s as dark as dystopian gets, but sensitive and extremely precise in its dark matter energy.
A Day in the Neighborhood
I don’t know if anyone’s ever loved me, maybe my parents did, I haven’t seen them in years, they kicked me out when I was in high school, they said they couldn’t deal with me anymore, I felt like I wasn’t finished dealing with them. I miss them sometimes, especially my father, he died a few years ago. I can’t call my mother, she won’t answer, neither will my sister.
From Dust; If You Build It; Prints All Over It; Franchise; Spoor
The important question is the layout of the palace. I have no training and go about it all wrong, façade first. The thousands of curved balconies, arched windows – how to avoid cyclopean boredom?
Crooks
They dream too of his multitude of shoes for all terrains – bar the one he has to tread – and wishful readings of his mauled life take on one of their own, being young and hopeful and having futures.