To the Tree House
On Saturday morning I take my book and climb up to sit in the tree house dad built for us. It’s not a proper…
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Any Number of Stones
I suppose this seems like the right time for a cigarette and some valiant fumbling: I do enjoy the way you shake your head…
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Mai’s Super Sweet 16: March
This column is the second entry in an ongoing experimental diary series exploring the life of a fictional teen Vietnamese girl, Mai. 2 March 2005 I had…
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Terminal Prayers
A middle seat. Closing the book when they dim the lights, to be crept upon by the certainty that this movement, the rapid hurtling…
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The Lookout
It was February, the third week of term, and we were going on camp for four nights. At assembly, Mr. Thorn said we would…
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Luminous Immolation of a Subatomic Girl
The taxi pulls up outside your place, a tower block, tall and menacing and somehow, from my perspective, precariously leaning to one side. Here,…
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Lay Your Hand On Me
Sometimes I like to sit on a bench and watch people walk by. Like floating stalks of a flower, shedding petals behind as they…
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Eagle boys at the End
The suburbs are cloaked in a smoky orange haze; it sinks down slowly over the rooftops and sifts through tree branches and power lines…
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Inbound
We sat around a big round table and let Alex tell us what to do. He was in his mid-twenties and dressed in a…
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