Losing Control of the Narrative in A Volga Tale
Our stories become us. It always happens after we die, of course.
a year ago
A Danse Macabre, Experiencing Death in An Out-Of-Tune Piano, An Accordion
For me, death has always been simply: “oh.” That’s all there’s left to say, really. Oh, he’s dead. Oh, when was the last time I talked to her? Oh. Oh oh oh. “Oh,” is all I can say in response to something that’s already happened. Nothing can be changed. It can only be reacted to.
2 years ago