In the days somewhere between one winter and another spring, the night kept calling us to the sewer.


Unsafe Is Not A Feeling

In therapy, I was used to experiencing myself as a sieve, a bum mirror, a talking machine. My body language was typically involuntary. “Scared?” I said, though that sounded so much more specific. Around us, potted plants offered oxygen.

La Mujer Alacran

A month after the attack on her body, she woke to find she could not peel her fingers apart; the skin of her hands was fused together. She could no longer steer a car. They were claws, bent and poised in defense.

photo of a shadow of a vase of flowers drawn with smudged black pastel

Barry Four Voices

I tell myself that I feel love but people like me don't feel things like love. Do they?

Stevie Versus the Negative Space

everything was about combinations of pairs, everything was about relationships between people and their feelings, everything was about sex, everything was about where you came from, and what you wore while coming.

Memoriam 96

The shooter and the vats of bacon fat will not be named and this article will not be published.


The engineers of Planet Earth laid the tracks back to front and this caused a great deal of confusion—we’d think we were on the train to New York, but find ourselves lost in Istanbul. If we missed our stop, we could take the train past Sydney and sling-shot around back to the park’s entrance in […]