I have 344 stories published in
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For many years I got used to old age by watching her when walking to the shops, past my front window like a great big bag of ripe bananas in her yellow frock:
Air-borne and invisible, sky-choker, cloud-blaster, his mood unpredictable, his longevity tried and judged, he has no measure of application, but black powers feeding off his core.
As if a monster unbolted a secret door and ripped the earth into shreds just under the ocean he has opened an abyss along the seabed, a bleeding wound of seeping muck, vaporizing
(after a letter a young English woman wrote from Sendai) Things here in Sendai are surreal. My shack is worthy of its name we all share water, food, kerosene. We sleep lined up in one room,
It is the year twenty-eleven. Some are still alive but nature put the candle out in the land of the Rising Sun. My thoughts go to Iwate, Miyagi, Fukushima and Ibaraki,