My little sister Sally used to be an honest girl. She was overflowing with truthfulness. Then, one day, quite unexpectedly, she was all truthed out. Deprived of her legendary truthtelling, Sally began to lie. The quality of her lies was of course inherent to her newness in the industry. Her fibbing was pretty see-through. Pinocchio,Continue reading “My Little Sister Sally”
Moving up along the lines of his ribcage, I hit the hem of the binder. It was biting into his skin, more so at the sides, and I thought nothing so soft and fragile should ever be bitten into like that. A confused impression of inadequacy came over me. Felix was graceful. He was refined. Those hands were a pianist’s hands. That skin deserved bedsheet and pillowcases. Real ones. Hundred percent cotton, organic or fair trade or some shit.