Boy With Berries, Girl With Gun

Who was the enemy? What past wrong was she seeking to avenge? Where was her battlefield? Not in any one place. It was in the air all around, it was in the texture of the world itself; or it was somewhere visible, it was in among the neurons, the tiny incandescent fires of the brainContinue reading “Boy With Berries, Girl With Gun”

There’s nothing like…

… Seeing a chartered bus full of middle-aged British males pressing on toward Kyiv from the border. Especially when said middle-aged British males start leering at you at a gas station. Leering and muttering, none too quietly either, because anyone who has stepped out of a car with Kyiv plates will obviously not speak any English.Continue reading “There’s nothing like…”