She killed more bees, just so she could fill the tiny bee graves she’d dug.
If you’re thinking of seeing the Ministry for yourself, it is probably wise to take sandwiches, a thermos and maybe a sleeping bag.
At the launderette, an elderly man took off his trousers, put them into the dryer without washing them. He sat on a chair and offered me a cigarette.
She danced with Alberto, I don’t know why, the joy and sadness of the occasion, I suppose.
Unusually for Israel, this Land of Blutos, he had no beard, no stubble, no hairy chest. He said, “Let’s go in,” so in we went.
Maybe everyone thinks it’s his costume for Purim, a Bacon painting of a Screaming Pope.
Nathan imagines they’d be caught and, besides, the man may be a serial killer, so suggests the cruising park behind the Hilton instead. Much safer.