The problem with writers, though, is that idealism tends to skew judgment into nebulous dogma. They romanticize and don’t politicize, so much interested in being heard and read as if the world was simply a two-act pantomime. Ha, a writer! – as though the mere mention of that could incite orgasm...

Swaddled in a pullover, hoodie, winter jacket, and jean trousers, with a furry cap strapped over my head, I still can feel the sting of autumn on the back of my hands. I try to ward it off, but realize it’s senselessly futile since, in four hours or more, we shall enter Chicago. I am ready, for now at least...

He no longer spent time with their children. Now he remembered the old days when they all played Ludo or Monopoly like equals. He had used up all his time serving his boss like a valet, and accompanying him everywhere like a bodyguard…

after all the seismic emotions
ruptured geophysics
my land remains a collage...