I walked through a park, bursts of hand-clapping kept exploding behind me. I finally identified a Tourette-ey man bobbing around in a suit, face clenched in concentration, his clapping was interspersed with lamp-post-tapping and tree-kissing.
I made straight for the big fig tree, clipped off a few of it's new sappy leaves and stuffed them down the front of my vest so that the figgy scent could waft around me for the rest of the day.
Check Your Head
-
by Jim Hanas When I interviewed the author George Saunders years ago, he
told me that his work was an attempt “to figure out a way that the
spiritual would...
1 hour ago
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment