My mother’s eyes looked as though they were full of black smoke. They looked like this a couple of times a year. Ordinarily they just looked muddy, like the paint water I would always leave too long before refilling when I was a child painting at the kitchen table, for whole days. She would moan … Continue reading Paintwater


My glass is taken around the corner to be warmed, and brought back to the bar. A bottle of cognac is dusted off and I’m poured a long unmeasured measure. I hand over my money and once I let go of the cold coins I’m rewarded with a warm glass against chapped skin. I handle it … Continue reading Cognac


No matter how many times she tried she couldn’t dislodge the eyelash from the sheet of paper. Every time she brushed her hand over it the eyelash got more and more embedded into the snow white sheet. The eyelash was thick and black. Not dark brown or just dark because of being against the white, … Continue reading Eyelash