TGV is the newer of Miri’s two movie theaters. Past the vendors selling durian and rambutan in the tamu, the stall keepers offering nasi lemak…
The arts and culture pages of the day before yesterday’s Hindu newspaper (April 24th 2015) brought back vivid memories of my first visit to India…
AThe woman standing outside in the drizzling rain without an umbrella is Suspect X and has been under surveillance a while now. A black leather…
Tell her, just tell her, I told myself. She towered over me on Broadway as we crossed in front of traffic, her long legs stretching…
The first time we met, I forced myself to like you. Tiny, hard, blind pimples scattered across your forehead, a wide jaw. Peroxide-blonde streaks marbled…
Our last bottle finishedno said my Russian friendthere are always seven drops leftseemed empty to me he holds the bottle up and waitsexactly seven dropsthere…
was not a metaphor, and I like to thinkthe weed wasn’t either, the wayit took me three monthsto smoke half an ouncebecause I had one…
He was a peddler in a horse-drawn wagon that sank beneath a load of watermelons, canary-yellow corn, bushels of gladiolas and mountains of ruby-red grapes….
To not go home in January, I will burn my new calendars, as if they were bridges. An exercise just for show? What do you…