Harris was walking his usual route to work, up Beacon Street and past the State House, when half a block ahead he saw their stolen car stopped at a red light. It was their missing car, all right-a white ’94 Honda Accord, license plate 432 dog, easy to remember-and it was still pumping out pale…
Alice Leung has discovered the secrets of bats: how they see without seeing, how they own darkness, as we own light. She walks the halls with a black headband across her eyes, keening a high C- cheat cheat cheat cheat cheat cheat-never once veering off course, as if drawn by an invisible thread. Echolocation, she…
In our battle against the Beatles, it was my uncle Willie who threw the first punch, and for that, he said, he should have been knighted. I didn’t argue. We fought them in 1966, the year they played Araneta Coliseum in Manila, to a crowd of over one hundred thousand people. Their visit was quick;…
You know, there is this amazing thing that happens when you begin to create a common history with someone. Each detail is fascinating. You could just go to a mall and hang near the fountain in the atrium, and you’ll find yourself going over that time as if it were the Zapruder film. -Mark Leyner…
You say there’s no time like the present. But what is the present here? I’ve watched TV for ages and seen movies since I was three. TV’s daily life and movies are a communal fantasy. Today is in color, yesterday’s in black and white, and there’s no agreement about tomorrow. I hear music everywhere, and…
The room was alive. I knew it better than my body. The whole house sighed and shuddered, breathing inaudibly through its doors and windows. In and out, in and out I went, and one existence melted like snow into another. The sun was fierce and crazy. I cooled in green pools or under the shade…
At the Boston airport they were separated. Julien had to go through the line for foreigners. He was carrying his big black artist’s portfolio, five feet by three, zipped up. In it were plans for all his major architectural projects. He looked very respectable, if pale. Austin, of course, had been waved through Immigration, and…
In the cave, eons of time are marked in drops of water bled from stalactites. The old man guiding Phoebe is called Jean-Pierre. Short, hunched, bandy-legged, mostly toothless but still a smiler, he grabs Phoebe hard from behind, pulls her back into his chest, pointing with his penlight up into the cavern. There. Can you…
At Tin Mill Canal the left headlight burned out. Darker now: eight eyes blinking at the nailing darkness. The sewage treatment plant and its sooty gray sewage-treated smoke rising openly into pinkblack air went grayer. Near the end now nothing to worry about-did you do that, Rootie?-you saboteur you sly bastard you it’ll take more…
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