Reason, however, had soured on the vine. That and civilization itself, which struck me now as rotting ever onwardzombielike. I rejected them both at once and turned to the jungle in favor of a savages noble heart. Almost immediately, I was assaulted by a wind of a most disgusting naturea hot, sulfurous wind, not for the faint of heart. I stuck my nose in it only to draw conclusions, mind you, and came away convinced that all forms of life must have a common ancestry. So much for the jungle. from Russell by Daniel Grandbois
A flowering tree, on the other hand, gives forth its essence when it reaches that stage known as full bloom, and in doing so, it emanates a mysterious aura comparable to the state of perfect stillness approached by a fast-spinning top, or perhaps the fleeting sensory impressions roused by a spectacular musical performance, or something like the afterglow that follows the burning act of consummation. It is this beauty, wondrous and vivacious, that never ceases to captivate the human spirit. from Under the Cherry Blossoms by Motojirō Kajii, translated from the Japanese by Bonnie Huie
On the morning upon which the woman appeared to give her testimony, the prosecutor was much more riled up than usual. The previous day he had been presented with a fellow who had killed his mother. He had strangled her on the floor with his bare hands.
The abuelo was a son of a bitch. He would beat his wife into unconsciousness. His children would scream through the locked bedroom door as he pummeled her with his bare fists. And yet, in his right and sober mind, he was the most serene fellow in the world.
I wanted to be a poet. I still guarded my collegiate ambitions, then, that one last weekend, that last time Mike and I would ever go to New York City.
Given my solid reputation as a gourmande, many readers imagine me seated at a table, framed with patés and bottles, like the Gourmand of a famous poster. Thats too flattering. Its actually embellishing the truth, taking me for a cordon bleu, while I am only able to manage one dish, and give some advice somewhat brightened up by enlightened gastronomy.
At night, in the car, smashing a puddle while from the brambles drips a water conscious of the path unfolding in order to give its contribution to the roots of the plants, Ettore and I get worked up against the government, in order to make sure that our values remain alive at least in a language between humans, and inside me I have a clear image of the void that I would have to defend if it were to come at the expense of others, but descanting on this certainty that has upset the custom of our gaze costs me a fatigue that I dont know whether to understand as the epiphany of a tiredness in which now to acquiesce in a delicate manner in order to pay homage to the matter and take some leave, or because reputed more suitable to reveal our humanity, the poetic word, sensitive.
I worked in a bookstore in Reading, Pennsylvania, when I was in college. It was quite different from a New York City bookstore; we sold furniture, school supplies and an interesting assortment of snacks. I did my best to make the stock we carried respectable; I ordered Joyce, Beckett and Updike, who had lived in Shillington, a suburb of Reading, in his youth. Most of our customers just wanted a fast read. I sympathized, but pushed my favorite authors on them anyway.
T. Motley is a core contributor to Cartozia Tales, a fantasy mapjam comic for all ages.
Jess Worby is a cartoonist, illustrator, and artist-teacher. He founded the Brooklyn Draw Jam and received an honorable mention in Best American Comics 2013.
Steven Little is an artist living and working in Brooklyn, painting and drawing and drinking fancy coffee.
Molly Roth is an aspiring human being/contributing member of society based out of Brooklyn, New York.
Arryan Decatur has an Aerosmith tattoo on the upper part of his right (your left) love handle that cost 70 dollars.