by Jess Earl Mama told me that thunder is just the sound of angels bowling. The angel outside my window doesn’t have hands but maybe it just can’t bowl, like how Katie can’t eat peanut butter. The angel doesn’t look like the ones in Mama’s paintings; it looks like a…
By Vasile Baghiu The endless prattle in an unknown language becomes background music in a silent movie about your life, the final revise is awaited with much interest, the parallel with scenes from the novels on historical themes is welcome, the night fever is not the same as the day…