is fraught with issues, I scope out shops with small
queues. A
bakery/coffee shop near my house sells sublime olivey-cheesy twists. Windows too fogged up to see
inside, I have to open the door to check the territory; two masked women clearly waiting their turn, to the side a man, his queuing status unclear. My specs as fogged as the windows I ask him if he's queuing - no response, the man is not
wearing a mask but does have headphones, he stands, swaying, mute and I realise that he must have teleported his mind to another planet.
In Other Words
-
Raymond Queneau’s 1947 book Exercises in Style tells the same story in 99
different ways, from telegram to ode: Narrative: “One day at about midday
in the ...
7 hours ago