Happiness. It's relative.
When summer turned to fall, the old man closed the window, not because he was cold, not yet, but because he thought he might be cold soon. And he didn’t want to be found lying dead on the bedroom floor in deep winter with… Continue Reading “Staying in the Life Outside”
Leaving Las Vegas in the dark, I see the city as if it was built on a giant raft floating in an endless black sea. The street lights stop at sharp edges, no meandering lights trail off. It’s as if a razor shaped the… Continue Reading “High Roller”
When summer turned to fall, the old man closed the window, not because he was cold, not yet, but because he thought he might be cold soon. And he didn’t want to be found lying dead on the bedroom floor in deep winter with… Continue Reading “Staying in the Life Outside”
Recent Comments