Distance2/23/2023 The more she swims out of sight of land the less she knows, skinned by the scouring distance from her previous lives.
Depths2/16/2023 The cracks in her life have never been joined together. Her life has never been useful or agreeable. Her actions consign her father's faith and that of other men to the depths of the sea. Grief is not an ocean for her. Only a puddle.
Underwater2/15/2023 She reappeared on an island one summer several years later after acquiring the ability to hold her breath underwater for almost an hour. A fatal swimming companion for those who fell under her spell.
The Shadow Staircase2/14/2023 - `Have you seen my daughter? She was crying. She's only a little girl.'
Her first disappearance left her mother distraught. She never recovered. Samaritan2/13/2023 In her suitcase she carries a photograph and a crab's claw. The photograph is of a girl saved by her from drowning. The closest she ever came to having children.
Zero2/12/2023 A vagrant exiled on the foreign soil of her own memories:
A carpet of poppies by Klimt reproduced on the wall of Room 305 of the Hotel California, Málaga. The skeleton of an aqueduct by night. An open-air cinema by a storm-beaten Mediterranean beach. Winter light, tunnels, transit, vanishing points. Do all the borders crossed cancel us out, reducing us to zero? Cardiac Arrest2/11/2023 As bradycardia sets in prior to cardiac arrest, the man is puzzled. He is granted the time for only one question and one statement: - 'Who is that woman? I cannot quite place her.'
|