By “Through your life you have distilled the virtues of this world and poured it out onto me. You always told me they would be endless. For so long – even still – I have acted unmoved. But those words fed a generous stream over stone. Only now do the cracks begin to show beneath a smooth polish.”
A Short Story: Bone Records
“The sounds echoing – outside the alleyway. Steady footsteps. The odd snatch of laughter, syncopating the beat. The x-rays rustling beneath the girl’s worn shirt, like white noise, like an insatiable itch, like a sputtering lighter on the last of its oil that, despite the silent Moscow snow, refused to go out.”
