Jose Saramago
I found her on the beach in Dar, and her little sister too. I love them both.
I was blurry when I was coughed up into adulthood. I was a muddle, a sort of odd conglomerate of myself and many adopted mannerisms and behaviors that I’d attached to CONTINUE >
My mother and I dressed alike.
I’ve spent a considerable amount of time thinking about hell. Hell is the place God is not. In Hell, the luxury afforded here, the luxury of avoiding the real, is gone. Hell is eternity faced with oneself without mitigation.
My mother is there now. CONTINUE >