“All the Lost,” “Autography,” and “Crookedest Street in the World”
Upon waking, you rise into the almost-no-longer dark and step into clothing rendered black and white by the dusting of light at the heavily shaded window.
Upon waking, Carat stretches and yawns, curls into her fur-lined basket, embraces sleep again.
Upon waking, Carat stretches and yawns, curls into her fur-lined basket, embraces sleep again.
Little Boy at Home
On our way to the family reunion west of Yorktown, Texas, we stop at Uncle Anton and Aunt Frieda’s house. Inside, my sister and I wander among the tumbled syllables of German. It is a language we can no more comprehend than the calls of cows and sheep and chickens.