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A woman of about forty-two or forty-three often goes for walks in the Schillerwiese, a vast park in a German city. She always takes a small digital camera and spends her time there photographing little girls when they urinate behind trees.
The retention ponds had just been crossed. The train was now moving over the final patches of tilled earth, raked with copper beneath the low autumn sun. Soon the forest would appear, the tunnels, and the rush of crowded trains along the viaduct, with the seemingly endless expanse of the distant city before it.
Most mornings I’m awake at seven, whether I’m sleeping over at Robert’s apartment or not. Sometimes we make love in the morning; more often, as time passes, when we go to sleep, we’re too exhausted to do anything except roll into one another’s arms, or turn on our sides, away from one another, without even saying good night.
Colm Tóibín is a writer most of us might know because of Brooklyn, his novel of Irish emigration across the Atlantic, which takes place in the 1950s. A quiet study of displacement and longing, it was recently adapted for the screen.
T. Motley is the 2016 silver medalist in the Society of Illustrators' Short Form Comics competition, winning for a story he contributed to Cartozia Tales.
Both Tom Daly and the modern Maraschino cherry hail from the same beautiful, small town in the heart of Oregon's Willamette Valley. Both ventured out of the valley, Mr. Daly going on to New York to study art and the cherry going on to pretty much every bar on the planet.
It has been definitively established that the Ice Age mammals, which disappeared around l2,000 years ago, vanished for clearly climatic and perhaps predatory reasons.