[The] safest way to avoid people like Mark was to seal yourself off, and then, when you were sealed off, it was about your face and getting it back in position, getting it to close over the darkness and everything you have stored inside.
Mostly, however, I see the mothers I know in glimpses, bent like shepherdess crooks, scanning the floor for tiny Legos or half-chewed grapes or the people they once were slumped in the corners.
Mostly, however, I see the mothers I know in glimpses, bent like shepherdess crooks, scanning the floor for tiny Legos or half-chewed grapes or the people they once were slumped in the corners.
There’s the man who hisses nasties as he stands under the light outside a bodega with bars over its windows. I put on my don’t-fuck-with-me face, and he has yet to do more than hiss, but there is a part of me that is more than ready, that wants to use what’s building up.
There’s the man who hisses nasties as he stands under the light outside a bodega with bars over its windows. I put on my don’t-fuck-with-me face, and he has yet to do more than hiss, but there is a part of me that is more than ready, that wants to use what’s building up.
From the many-roomed black temple, he had stepped into a universe of fractured patterns. There was no relief from their implacable mathematics. Designs formed and re-formed. Hard-edged triangles joined and split in an endless geometry. If this was death, it was visually exhausting.
From the many-roomed black temple, he had stepped into a universe of fractured patterns. There was no relief from their implacable mathematics. Designs formed and re-formed. Hard-edged triangles joined and split in an endless geometry. If this was death, it was visually exhausting.
You’re in love with her. It’s probably the hopeless ferocity of your love that impels you to stand firm, to refuse her refusal–she who has, on the one hand, succeeded spectacularly and, on the other, consented to what must be, at best, a chilly and brutal marriage. You can’t simply relent and walk back out of the room. You can’t bring yourself to be so debased.
You’re in love with her. It’s probably the hopeless ferocity of your love that impels you to stand firm, to refuse her refusal–she who has, on the one hand, succeeded spectacularly and, on the other, consented to what must be, at best, a chilly and brutal marriage. You can’t simply relent and walk back out of the room. You can’t bring yourself to be so debased.
According to rumor, he was abused by his father, the last King. But that’s the story people always tell, isn’t it, when they want to explain inexplicable behavior?