The world is dark and quiet, waiting for something to be born. Something not quite human, but not quite dead. A low mist crawls along the alleys of the town. A crow screeches down the dawn. Weak light seeps slowly …
From dreaming dreams, from taking walks. From outdoor pictures drawn in chalks. From being bored, from being not. From oozy, gooey things, like snot. From where we stand and where we sit. From being weird and loving it. From listening …
Read part 8 here. Voices on the Wind It was a dry, windy day at the Nuevo Sueno prison. Tumbled newspapers and scraps of trash blew about the dusty exercise yard. Guards barked now and then at the little …
Read part 7 here. Tougher Than Football Jack showed up at the bandstand Saturday with a backpack full of pens, envelopes, and paper. A lot of grownups were waiting, including Ms. Bergson. She’d made a sign that read, “We <3 …
