The two men frowned at the map. It made little sense and one referred to the detailed instructions he’d taken good care to note down.
Even before stepping into the cottage, Gary knows that this is bad.
JOE AND I were in the back seat of a black sedan, cruising along a motorway from Amsterdam Airport Schiphol to the International Criminal Court in The Hague.
Wails of grief drifted over the city like a black aria. The mud brick dwellings burst with anguish, as the sorrow swirled into the night desert.
I am searching your face for remnants of the young man, the one who wrote of the cries of the holy Lammergeier as it feeds on the bones of the dead.
The two brothers darted back and forth across the wide thoroughfare, dodging carts, carriages and horse-trams.
By the time I pull my car into the garage, my hands are shaking on the wheel. I tell myself I have no reason to feel so nervous.
The day the earth shifts, a body emerges from the belly of the ice- crusted sea. Bone-white fingers waving, as if alive.
On Christmas Day 1996 a man was driving across the mountains on his way home from Oslo.
Nadia once told me that she was kept awake at night by the idea that she would read about the end of the world on a phone notification.
In the beginning we were a single pluripotent embryo that was so burst-full of genetic potential it considered becoming two embryos and then part way through this most delicate of processes, changed its mind.
All families are secret societies. Realms of intrigue and internal warfare, governed by their own rules, regulations, boundaries, frontiers. Rules which often make no sense to those outside its borders.
I have been a child and adolescent psychologist for more than three decades and there is no doubt that things are not going swimmingly in terms of young people’s mental health.
A man melted into the throng of tourists gathered along the E Street walkway.
No Regrets. Stupid name for a signature cocktail. Brears had found the recipe online, this tequila-Baileys thing.
My mother kept bees: Apis mellifera ligustica, the Ligurian bee, which exists in its purest strain here on Kangaroo Island.
The field is full of flowers. None of those words is a lie, but they’re not true either, because they’re too small, too inadequate, too little to describe the field, its fullness, the flowers.
Diary of a Wimpy Kid world to expand in April 2019 with new book: DIARY OF AN AWESOME FRIENDLY KID