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.
I’ve decided to stop saying goodbye, and start saying hello, instead.
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.
He’s too polite to say he thinks he’s more handsome than me, but he’s not too polite to think it.
She lies on a rug with Alberto, they are playful with each other, then nap, their bodies touching, like incestuous twins.
This is a nation of shruggers, it is the answer given to many questions…
You are cute and cute and enjoy the beautiful hugs of life. And I actively love kissing hugs and blowjob pussy flowing.
He sits back in his black, leather chair, makes a steeple with his fingers, and is definitely in charge, while I sit on the edge of my seat, lean forward and gibber like the monkey I really am.
He sends me an email, ‘Since im back idont find myself here and cant wait to be back there.’ I know what he means.
We’re drunk and happy, and howl into the night, like wolves in the forest.
Israelis, in case you don’t know, aren’t great at customer relations.
He says I should come back to the table and talk to him more, and blows me a kiss. I wink at him, like a playboy.
Tim, infuriated by the sounds of a mother playing with her baby, who wouldn’t be, poured a glass of water onto them from his balcony.
Nathan, whose greatest fear is that he’ll develop a resistance to Botox, returned from Frankfurt with the face of an inexpressive eight year old.
Kindly, she added that I shouldn’t be embarrassed, families can be strange. That much I know.
I discover that doing nothing is more fun than having nothing to do
He laughs. “I wish! I wish you’d fuck me.” He howls this into the night. He doesn’t care who hears. “Fuck you all!”
It’s all quite plush, for a sex room, newly built and well maintained. It’s better finished, by far, than my flat, and spotlessly clean.
A man at another table pointed at me, his hand trembling, and said, “Itzak Stern sat there.”
She looked disgusted, as if I’d admitted to a taste for rat, or beetroot, or something.
He tells me at length ‘what I should do’, which includes marrying his 48 year old niece. She’s a PE teacher, he says, guaranteeing her attractiveness.
He carries, at all times, a beautiful modern edition of The Art of War, which he reads during the break.
He asks me if I know Little Britain, and shows me a picture of the year he dressed up as Daffyd, the only Iranian gay in the village.
There was a thing by her in the turbine hall of Tate Modern a few years ago, enormous, black, metal spiders. Horrible.
I notice a couple on a third floor balcony of the Royal Beach having sex. We watch the distant, bobbing figures for a while.
My mother’s in hospital to have a toe removed. Is the operation called a toe-ectomy? A toe job?
I ask if there’s anything that connects us, the new immigrants. ‘We didn’t fit in at home?’ says Megan, in that way that makes statements sound like questions.
The man said, ‘I hate Jews.’ Alvin said ‘Ok’, and continued showing the property…