The past is an abandoned railway cut into the outskirts of the city. Rails, two rusty scars, all...

The drum of the washing machine spun its silent, mechanical ritual, and I watched it as if hypnotized, sitting...

We do not go to war over abstract concepts like justice, freedom, or gods. These are just signs that politicians, ...

The heat above the square vibrated like a transparent shiver, absorbing the reflections of the buildings and turning them into...

The city breathed the monotony of wet asphalt, and I, another erythrocyte moving through its blood vessels, was swimming in the usual ...

It was raining. No, this was not the calm, pattering rain from the old books. Here the sky vomited bile, ...