Sublime

On this particular cold and drizzly Friday night, Lidl was also a place to hide. He did not want to go home. Friday nights, traditionally assigned to partying and relief and enjoyment, were becoming increasingly depressing. He did not want to go home at the end of yet another week to the woman standing at the sink with the different mouth, to feel

House of Leaves, de Mark Danielewski.

Morris Schutt is stumbling towards a discovery of himself, attempting to understand how one should live the best life.

John Updike’s The Centaur,