Sublime

Your house is too quiet, or rather it is loud in the absence of others.

A lonely girl living in a world surrounded only by ghosts. Nothing reminded her of her own life more.

If Sam had any strong sexual identifications, straight or gay, there would have been a dozen co-ops delighted to have him. The fact that Sam chose to live in an all-male nonspecific probably meant that, underneath the friendliness, the intelligence, the power, he was probably rotten with neurosis; behind him would be a string of shattered communal

She knew that he himself lived in hoity-toity Park Slope, with all the rich white people and their SUV-strollers, and that this was his only rental property, and that he tried to do a good job—when he stopped by, he brought treats for her four-year-old, and spoke to him respectfully, as if he were indeed a tiny man—but she also knew that there was

“that we couldn’t find the lady with the Krishna Kricket.”

We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.

He felt the terrible emptiness of men who are ruined, who see everything collapse in a single day.