Tag Archives: kafka
Whether I had been waiting for him, or he for me, I could no longer remember. Or maybe he was a she, and I was a you, gender and pronouns being so malleable and always in flux. Whoever, or whatever … Continue reading
I awoke to find I was Holly Golightly– Kafka’s dream, debugged.
Between dreams, he woke to night-bells ringing in the early morning— the riskiest time of day. The fog outside his room, thick as cat’s feet, treading softly on his mind, and after rubrubbing the sheep from his eyes, he stared … Continue reading
Hemingway wrote that he’d go to the Luxembourg, hungry, and stare at the paintings and this was a great way to see art.