January 21, 2010 – Natalia A.

He makes me sit there, as it’s nearing 5 a.m. in Kiev, and write. He’s not here. He’ll be on a plane to New York soon. But his hand is on my shoulder, and I’m writing. “I threw your army tags into the water. A thousand years later, archeologists will dig that shit right up,Continue reading “He’s funny that way”