A reading of Eliot’s poem about a crying girl. Continue reading

As the General spread his cards in his hand, the swords of the King and of the Jack of Spades glinted at him. He swore for a moment he saw a smirk in the corner of the Jack’s eye. Continue reading

At precisely eight o’clock on the morning of April fifth the telephone rang. I was not expecting a call. No one had my number at the apartment I was staying at. I let the phone ring. Once… twice; it continued insistently. I tried my best to ignore it. I answered on the fifth ring. Continue reading

Not a story about me through their eyes then.  Find the beginning, the slight silver key to unlock it, to dig it out.  Here then is a maze to begin, be in.
Michael Ondaatje
The Collected Works of Billy the Kid