Siddartha and his monks are gathered around the fire. The day's begging is done, the meal is eaten; the moist evening air clamors with insects. The monks are squatting in their yellow robes. Even in the heat, they press close...
Siddartha and his monks are gathered around the fire. The day's begging is done, the meal is eaten; the moist evening air clamors with insects. The monks are squatting in their yellow robes. Even in the heat, they press close...
What's the difference between enthusiasm and the gasoline you put in your car? When you think about it there isn’t! Both provide the “juice” to “drive us forward”!
My feet out the door and she in the cat cage so quiet clamored for more feet doing something right. And yet, I lingered near the car before getting in, smelled the sky before the car’s safety flooded us.
Carolyn found three on the floor. She lifted the little box where the nest hid. It was empty. The mother huddled in a corner. Before the hamsters were born, Carolyn prepared the nest as the book told her.
If it hadn’t arrived during the quiet times to a man, so gentle a man that he often tapped the things around him before handling them as if to ask for permission, or to measure the weight—the actual weight as well as some metaphysical weight of each object before picking it up...
Sigmund Freud proved that eels have testicles and I can’t even get out of bed. There’s an intimidation of potency. I don’t have gonads, but I have snorkeled.
The quilt does not become alive immediately. First the coarse-cotton fabric must be woven, the intricate patches cut and sewn, the white cotton batting pressed between the patchwork top and the solid whole-cloth backing. Then the bundling in burlap, the jostling truck ride from the sewing unit to the quilting center, and the long wait in a pile of starchy doppelgangers. And still it takes blood to bring a manufactured thing to life. This time, it happens when a quilter pricks her fingertip and gasps aloud, causing the women at her table to glance at one another, because if the foreman finds even a freckle-sized stain of blood...
My mother is Japanese, my father white. But my father was never in the military and she was no war bride. My mother is from Los Angeles, my father from citrus orchards and almond trees outside Sacramento.
Bungaboo Kana cannot know the story his life will inspire, cannot see out of that hot cab filled with sound to the well-lit stage where Richard Dreyfuss will accept an Academy Award for his portrayal of a big-hearted ape mailman.
She wears no shoes; her toughened toes are somewhere between pink and blue. Her face is a square of uncooked meat, a butchered slab, features melted together in the centre.