[soundcloud url=”https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/43782479″ params=”auto_play=true&hide_related=false&visual=true” width=”100%” height=”450″ iframe=”true” /] Peyton recognized it the first time he heard Tito Salinas play the pieces. When the performance ended, he…
Undraped feminine figure; that is, even if infatuated with brevity, David still insists on putting it in three other words: the female nude. Yes, the…
There is something about these big towns, they allure you, promise you something beautiful and make you chase these hopes and dreams feverishly and then,…
Murthy was a second division clerk in one of the government offices; knowing which one makes no difference because most of them are alike in…
Salim Bouhadi, who used to be the police chief in Tiznit until he left in disgrace, hurried up the dirt road away from the bluffs….
I have no use for the daily news,
wasting away the protracted minutes,
waiting for the triumph of diagnosis.
No pretensions here.
No ornamentation of
high art.
No gods or kings,
No nymphs or castles.
You can start at the memories
Of putting on your dad’s shirts
Pretending to be a detective
Is that Samisen, the swish of geisha?
Those strings, that fragrance…
A tattoo in silk’s fluidity,
The clear mystery of sheer notes strummed
Every month, The Reading Room showcases a short story, or excerpts of a book, from some of the greatest writers the world has ever seen.