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Scott Wolven’s Followers (21)
Scott Wolven
Born
The United States
Website
More books by Scott Wolven…
“Love can die. It's a mysterious thing, the death of love. Sometimes it fades slowly, like a long sunset with amazing and rare color that lasts in the memory forever. Sometimes it becomes obese and dies from its own weight, the density and slowness that come with things grown too large. It is often killed on purpose, by someone who is in love with someone or something else. But the other person, the one still in love, is a loose end, snapping and cracking in the high wind of life passing them by. Life moves so fast it creates a back draft, that leaves things scattered and blowing in its wake. Life, of all things, is alive. It is everywhere and moves beyond speed.”
― Controlled Burn: Stories of Prison, Crime, and Men
― Controlled Burn: Stories of Prison, Crime, and Men
“I've never lost anything,' Red said, 'Not a penny, not a memory. Never lot anything. I've gotten rid of some crap, some people, but I don't allow myself to lose things.”
― Controlled Burn: Stories of Prison, Crime, and Men
― Controlled Burn: Stories of Prison, Crime, and Men
“You ever see a nest of snakes in the woods? Sometimes they’ll be in a rotted tree trunk or out in a field?’
I nodded.
‘Crawling all knotted up with each other, biting each other, this one eating the tail of that one that’s eating the head of another, sliding all around each other, so you can’t tell which one is which one. Some poor people think that’s life.’ He reached down and brought his coffee up, took a swallow. He was looking at the mountains. He set his coffee on the table and started for the door. ‘Solitary never bothered me,’ he said. ‘It was being in population that I didn’t care for. Too many snakes.’ He went out and I watched him walk back up the hill through the ankle-deep snow.”
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I nodded.
‘Crawling all knotted up with each other, biting each other, this one eating the tail of that one that’s eating the head of another, sliding all around each other, so you can’t tell which one is which one. Some poor people think that’s life.’ He reached down and brought his coffee up, took a swallow. He was looking at the mountains. He set his coffee on the table and started for the door. ‘Solitary never bothered me,’ he said. ‘It was being in population that I didn’t care for. Too many snakes.’ He went out and I watched him walk back up the hill through the ankle-deep snow.”
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