MARCELA • by Carl Boon
Marcela pinched the corner of the afghan as if to fold it, lay it atop the bed, and leave the room. It was morning, which meant it was time for something. She thought a while, dumbfounded again at the misery… Continue Reading
Marcela pinched the corner of the afghan as if to fold it, lay it atop the bed, and leave the room. It was morning, which meant it was time for something. She thought a while, dumbfounded again at the misery… Continue Reading
(London, Highgate psychiatric ward, 1995.) Rosa chokes on a wall of smoke as she enters the TV room. Through the jaundiced haze she makes out 8 or 9 men in plastic chairs, staring fixedly at a screen. Persil Automatic gets… Continue Reading