how to win the lottery s18e1 – short dark oracles by sara levine
returning to the table, i smiled at anyone who accidentally looked my way. i smiled at the waiter so often i confused him.
returning to the table, i smiled at anyone who accidentally looked my way. i smiled at the waiter so often i confused him.
my name is william withey gull and i am dying. i am catch-me-if-you-can and i am leather apron. i am jack the ripper on my way to heaven.
my little beast, my eyes, my favorite stolen egg. listen. to live is to be marked. to live is to change, to acquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebration we mortals really know. in perfect stillness, frankly, i’ve only found sorrow.
in the afternoon the sun came out, but the snow and wind kept on for a long time. finally the snow stopped and i lay in the tent watching the fly flap away from the tentwall in the gusts so that the wall became sublimely white and perfect for a moment before the fly’s writhing shadow lashed it; all day i watched the sun-play and felt that i needed no more.
in the afternoon the sun came out, but the snow and wind kept on for a long time. finally the snow stopped and i lay in the tent watching the fly flap away from the tentwall in the gusts so that the wall became sublimely white and perfect for a moment before the fly’s writhing shadow lashed it; all day i watched the sun-play and felt that i needed no more.