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A young woman marries beneath her family’s standing and awaits her husband’s ravishing on her wedding night.
I floated after her on a vapour trail of her scent, the lingering taste of Willa Jean and her Sazerac on my tongue, and Miles Davis in my soul.
Experience the guilt of making love under the crucifix. Experience the thrill.
The magnificent battles of wild horses….
Behind the mask, your sensations are limited to degrees of pressure.. and you extend your gloved hand
A son’s college funds are spent on an old Chevette. Enter the young man’s mother.
As I heard the heavy thud of the front door close, I walked to my son’s room, locked the door, and crawled in his bed. Then I lit a match.
A downpour of frogs surprises in the Mediterranean
She rips the bird’s mandibles with her teeth and she devours his tongue, clacking her jaws at the texture, the taste.
A pair of twin brothers who are divergent in all ways.
It was the time of bombings, the morning after the Emab blast..
A man contemplates his altered road ahead.
The Thing gorged on the barely formed fetuses of 1,400 future trends, Julian Assange’s soul, small and chewy as a California almond..
A woman recognises an attractive stranger on the train to Bombay.
A duet between Youth and Age.
Perestroika meant twenty-three, with two Masters degrees, and still unemployed in Odessa.
The light of a single red bulb in a makeshift warehouse bedroom with a record spinning like the circles of the underworld..