In order to choose her shoes, Chloe consulted her "Big Book 'o Footwear" every morning while getting ready. Whenever she bought a new pair of shoes, she'd put them on and snap a Polaroid of her feet so she could get a decent idea of how she'd look in them without actually having to try them on. Her fiancee thought this was ridiculous, but she thought it was quite a time-saver. Plus, he had no room to criticize--he often brushed his teeth while peeing.
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. She was looking at her mother, who cried silently.
This young girl wasn't sure why her mother cried, and she was afraid to find out. The last time she found her mother in an emotional state, she was chastised for interfering.
But, Amy couldn't help but look at her mother as she shed tears. In front of her was a plate with nothing but crumbs, a coffee mug, a notebook, and a vase with flowers. From the looks of things, Amy's mother was enjoying a snack....
"The year is 2070. The girl you see is your granddaughter." The computer hummed and buzzed as it began to clue me in on what - or who, I was watching. I could hardly believe it. It was almost surreal to see. I mean, I was 14 and could scarcely imagine knowing my granddaughter but, there she was. Kia Nicole. I could see my eyes and my smile on her face and quite abit of my father's features were evident in her as well. She was sitting at a the dining room table that my parents had bought and she...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. But was pushed away, rudely by a tall man. He walked in, I had seen him before. Years younger. The features were still the same. He walked straight for me, not hesitating. Called to me: "Jacob.". The voice too was familiar but different somehow. His eyes were my father's, the nose too. But it was not him, nor was it my brother.
He talked fast: "I have to prove something."
I didn't know how to reply, I couldn't place him. That face, I felt if I...
He rain into the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet.
"What happened to you?" I asked
"We gotta go now! There's no time to waste!"
"Jack, what are you talking about? Are you being chased by some random stranger to be killed or something?"
"Yes, Kary. That is exactly what's happening! Now we need to go, NOW!!!"
I ran to my room and filled a back pack with clothes when I hear my door explode open. I rush out to what happened and see my brother laying on the ground with a stranger pointing a gun at...
Starvation.
He'd heard the word before, used it - but he hadn't known what it meant. He knew that now. He had no idea of what it really meant, not until now, not until this moment (but he knew it would continue to get worse until he could eat, of course it would, that gnawing inside would only get worse)
His vision was failing, he was dizzy - he needed something, needed to find something to eat, or he would -
He knew it with a painful clarity. He would die.
Again.
It had been bad enough the first time...
Wine makes you drunk if you drink too much. I like wine. Its like grape juice with alcohol. They should put it in juice packs and give it to adults. If you drink wine while your pregnant, then your baby will get messed up and look like a raisin. i like raisins. they are grapes that got old and they got shriveled up, like my uncle. He drank too much wine and got messed up. My mother doesn't drink wine anymore. It kills you slowly.
OK. OK then. That's it? Really? Just- no. No. Honestly. The goal is to steal dinner? Come on now. I, the man who eats cats, can do a lot better than that. So much better. It's not like- I don't know- I'm pressed for a job or anything. No, not at all. Of course not. Why would I be? I'm the Cat-Eater. Of course I haven't been stuck on alley cats for the past few months- all skin and bones- far from the days where I ate the cats of the Tsars. They had respected me. You know what? I'm...
My mother was not svelte. She spent her life washing clothes, lifting children, and hauling sacks of potato and flour from the market to our small apartment in Flushing. My father frequently looked at the Sears catalog, commenting on the models within. "Why don't you look more like this one?" he would ask, as though the answer weren't obvious. My father did not look like Marlon Brando (young), and my mother did not look like Marlene Dietrich. Yet somehow, I never heard my mother ask my father why he didn't look like this one. Long suffering, some might say.
She...
Chopin and nature. Like a French-pressed cup of coffee and Swiss chocolate.
But was it nature that inspired this feast for the eyes? How did Chopin filter out the noise to create his masterpiece? Must I do the same?
I switch to Vivaldi, an upbeat piece known for it's nature qualities. The Four Seasons. Ahh...that's perfect. I sink into the hammock, the soft southern breeze cooling my hair as I rock gently back and forth. Lulled to sleep by a dead guy...
I wake up. This is all wrong. This can't be right. I'm missing something...
The song is over,...