I spend ten entire minutes trying to open a plastic package of Weeble-wobbles...,my fingers raw, the three little Weebles obstinate in their PVC clamshells. I can't help but wonder, as I saw with a br...
The) Gray wagtail...doesn’t look like much, does he? Hardly a couple of ounces of feathers and bones. But that bird can fly to Africa and back. Powered by bugs and worms and desire.
With the countless chevrons of whitecaps. Soon enough, the navigators can discern the low moonlit lumps of islands ranged along the horizon. France.
Escutcheons.
Bravest. Who will lie on her back and let her last breath curl up
Assume the world offers safety and rationality when of course it does not.
Werner and his younger sister, Jutta, are raised at Children's House, a clinker-brick two-story orphanage on Viktoriastrasse whose rooms are populated with the coughs of sick children and the crying o...
Radio: it ties a million ears to a single mouth. Out of loudspeakers all around Zollverein, the staccato voice of the Reich grows like some imperturbable tree; its subjects lean toward its branches as...
Inhale, exhale. Walk the paths of logic. Every outcome has its cause, and every predicament has its solution. Every lock its key. You can go back to Paris or you can stay here or you can go on (110-11...
If only she had begged him to stay. Now everything in the house scares her: the creaking stairs, shuttered windows, empty rooms. The clutter and silence. Etienne tries performing silly experiments to...
I do not know so. I believe so.
How do you ever know for certain that you are doing the right thing? There
He knows the transmitter must be high in the house. Close to the shelling. He says, I saved her only to hear her die.
Frau Elena paces the parlor, her slippers whispering left, whispering right. Coal cars grind past in the wet dark. Machinery hums in the distance: pistons throbbing, belts turning. Smoothly. Madly.
For a split second, the space around Werner tears in half, as though the last molecules of oxygen have been ripped out of it. Then shards of stone and wood and metal streak past, ringing against his h...
Fog on the sea, fog in the streets, fog in the mind.
Everyone trapped in their roles.
Don’t you ever get tired of believing? Don’t you ever want proof?You must never stop believing. That’s the most important thing.
Can deaf people hear their heartbeat?
A voice materializes out of the distortion in his headphones, then fades, and he goes ferreting after it. There, thinks Werner when he finds it again, : a feeling like shutting your eyes and feeling y...