The first time I had a gun pointed at me I was 14 and I ran home crying, and my brother laughed at me, calling me burra, saying I’d better get used to it. I didn’t know if he meant getting used to seeing guns or getting used to being stupid.
Mwela has a lot of theories. He tells you about them each night after dinner, after the fish fryers have cooled and the last of the ugali is scraped from the tabletops...
Grown now and alone, Manion remembers his past as severed bits of planets revolving around his mother, the sun.
It’s a Sunday night tradition:
-I go and buy the cheapest bottle of red wine from California at the liquor store.
A story begins with a woman sitting at her kitchen table at 7 a.m., having just received a call from the police.
Onscreen, the pug pulls away just as Mrs. Hernandez in 7C calls to complain about an awful noise coming from the roof.
Sometimes, I’ll put down the window as I drive to the shops and force as much wind into me as I can, until it burns my nose and puffs out my cheeks like I have a mouthful of marbles.
Carlton is huge. Even for a Great Pyrenees, known for their size and snowy fur like a fresh avalanche, he is colossal.
Apparently my father, in his later years, developed a taste for being penetrated rectally by young boys.