[It's been two days since Raivis stopped showing at work. He'd called in sick the first day (and the second) but as the evening of the third comes, it's become quite obvious for the more seasoned veterans to Mister Galante's personality quirks that he's already gone into a deep, depressive hibernation. Even if he happened to be vomiting his ( Read more... )

How much can a man live in the time it takes for him to take a breath? I think the answer is easy:

As much as a man who has forty, fifty, eighty years. As long as he can think of and feel the world around him, he's existing. He's experiencing. He's alive.

I'm not sure about this overwhelming sensation of deja vu- I had it over at the Charleston the ( Read more... )

Raivis had fallen asleep and when that had been, he couldn't quite recall. The only certainty he had: He'd dreamed a week away. What had transpired during the proceeding days of lucid dreaming was a haze of half formed memories of muttered incantations into the telephone and bleary eyed mornings wondering why the stapler wouldn't come to him when ( Read more... )

I don't think the word 'duality' has ever held as much clarity to me as it does now. Maybe it takes a few v-viable threats to your life to inspire a retrospection serious enough to catch all the snags that you missed before. Maybe it takes a series of break downs, meeting a stranger in a park at the dead of night, or the world simply falling apart ( Read more... )