I’m writing from the Big house. I’ve just rolled my third cigarillo for the day, and the neighbor from the American Ranch, two houses down on the right side of the street, has already stopped by twice, begging for something new each time. It’s barely noon. When we arrived on…

I’ve always been a bit of a snob. All of my snobberies are well rounded by good manners, an extroversion born for the ball, and conversational skills that can talk a militant out of any vice. Consequently, the snobbery goes unnoticed to my advantage. But If you know me, you…

i’m running pink shorts, white top the street lined with white markers falls to the heavens beneath me. The sky is red, pale pink like vomit. Lonesome in its clarity. the cliffs are breaking the rocks are trembling slowly, drooling onto the pathway that is my only escape I am…