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the wood of suicides andrew kertesz "In some versions, the dead bodies become a kind of reef. Life accretes. Swallows and wind-lost moths harbour in the folds of their bodies, building nests of stolen tobacco and pubic hair. Slow-flying pelicans graze the sluggish currents, mouths wide and filtering, gripping slippery sparrows from oozing vapour, slow and graceful as whales. Albatrosses, wingspans of fifteen feet or more. Lammergeyer that blot the sun, feathers smooth as polished brass." paris lyrian fleming "Two hours pass and I can feel the words trying to slip off the page and smear their inky stains over me. A battle I can win, I think, sees me standing over the sink trying to set fire to the corners of the page with the glowing end of my cigarette. Ten left means I could be here for the afternoon. Paragraphs go up in smoke, covering the drain hole with ashes as strong as our commitment. One drop is all it took to wreak havoc." detour justina elias "But then it’s different for boys,
epecially boys like Mike - tall boys,
not that bright but fast runners, broad-shouldered boys with normal
looks and mall clothes. What would it be like to live in his body?
Would she feel invincible? When they’re naked she likes to lie behind
him sometimes and line her arms up with his, warm skin of his back
against her front, and half-circle his wrists with her little hands,
and jostle him like a puppet. ‘You
are mine,’ she’ll murmur, in a Dracula voice, trying not
to giggle. ‘All mine.’
a movement in a moment janet walker "We haven't cleaned the gutters
yet. There’s dry scrub sticking out like mossy pubes from a nanna's
cossie. the boy with the lizard egg
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