"Travel light, but take everything with you." That was the only advice my father ever gave me, before he left. I was six.
I took it to heart, it was the only thing I had of him. I never knew where he went, he told me it was important, but that's what you tell a child when you have to leave, no matter the reason. So when mother died, I was seventeen with nothing to me but that advice. I decided to seek out my father, to know where he had gone, to walk in his footsteps. I needed to...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. She was the last surviving member of the Yoshi Crew, a band who had until recently been quite the rage amongst the in-crowd of Berlin. Her devil-may-care attitude and foul mouth had won her a place in the hearts and minds of Berlin's anti-establishment, anti-casual, anti-everything crowd. In Beijing, things had gone more than a little wrong. Mechmal, the under-fed, over-exaggerated singer had found them a gig at a nightclub in the centre of Beijing's equivalent of Soho as they worked their way around the world....
He could not even translate it. It was what one might call a specific knowledge, the fact that he did not understand this particular currency conversion did not mean he was not smart it just meant that he well did not understand it.
Still he felt anxious.
Hot
Clammy
He walked around the building, reading the strip of paper again and again. It was a a large number it could be something, life changing, probably not. Probably just another day. Someone had something wrong, something lost in translation.
He straightened his collar and opened the door.
Ready to deal.
I wonder, looking at the picture, who he was, to dream so... audaciously. Really. To even think he could surpass me-- us, I remember, looking over at her. Her belly is round and curved, like a ripe melon, and I smile. She does not reply; she is tinkering with some wires. I am sure in a few minutes she will have something ready that will sell for millions.
The man in the photo is looking off to the side at something else. He is wearing a bulky waistcoat. I should think he epitomizes the stereotypical inventor. Indeed, the fantastical creation...
Until now, she'd never thought of herself as pretty. Not in the conventional way that her sisters were. She was unfortunate enough to have her father's nose, as steep as a ski slope, and her hair wasn't thick and glossy as spun gold like her mothers, but black and frizzy.
Glancing at the man, she smiled coyly. Flirting didn't come naturally to her. In fact, social interaction of any kind had never been her forte. She much preferred the quietness of her attic bedroom. No company except for her cat Tabitha. She had been happy that way, for years. People...
Dark spires pierce the night, reaching for full moons and distant stars. It's more than most could contend with. We sleep, conjuring pistol dreams while the tall buildings and statues do the work of our desires of actively attaining the beauty that this world has to offer. Every day we awake to the soft sunlight shining through our windows believing that today is the day that we will quit our jobs and move to distant cities and start anew. But these thoughts dim as we put on our clothes for work and eat more morning breakfast and continue on with...
"Goodnight..." My baby sleeps in my arms, her little hands balled up into tiny fists.
"Goodnight..." My baby lays in bed with her pigtails loose and her pajama's too small.
"Goodnight..." My baby dances and twirls herself to her room; dancing on air and blinded by love.
"Goodnight..." My baby waves from the car as they drive away, her white dress shining like the tears in my eyes.
"Goodnight..." My baby rocks her baby to sleep and I smile.
"Goodnight..." My baby kisses my hand and I drift away.
.. 2080 ... 2090 ... 2100. 2100 NE Swenson Avenue, that was the address. Harold was certain of it. He could almost feel an unnatural attraction to the simple white door with blue finish that innocently faced the street, surrounded by colorful flower pots.
A hesitant step after another, his heart pounding, he approached it. His thoughts were hundreds of miles away, in his home country, where his family was held hostage. They were watching his every move, listening to his every breath. If he failed, his wife and children would die.
His hand rested on the doorknob. The windows...
ha!
you can count me out
nope
not doin' it
uh-uh
nooo wayyy
mm-mmm
nooooo
screw that
never
I Said No.
..alright let's do it
Some people in masks of Guy Fawkes
Stood to protest Scientology's flocks
They wore them because
It gave them a buzz
And otherwise they'd get sued by those cocks