“... something was not right... almost as if something were hiding amongst the paint... squeezed in between the brush strokes... a kind of presence bringing it alive...”
― The Octunnumi Fosbit Files Prologue
― The Octunnumi Fosbit Files Prologue
“Nguyen said, “Ho and I shall return to our positions on the deck, where we are keeping watches of two people on duty for two hours at a time.”
He then continued, he said, “Cung, from what you have told me, you appear to be a loyal citizen of Vietnam. Yet, you are being hunted by the Vietnamese security organisations!”
(A Gracious Enemy & After the War Volume Two)”
―
He then continued, he said, “Cung, from what you have told me, you appear to be a loyal citizen of Vietnam. Yet, you are being hunted by the Vietnamese security organisations!”
(A Gracious Enemy & After the War Volume Two)”
―
“They are lazy, worthless men who contribute nothing, unless they’re shamed into it, and they have little shame.”
― The Shelters of Stone
― The Shelters of Stone
“Unbeknown to her, that Louisiana background secretly intimidated my urgency to drop to a knee and produce a ring. Or maybe, I wanted to see her raise a chicken from the dead. Rumors had assured me, her tribe was capable of voodoo, spells, and such. Well, those were my on-going issues toward matrimony.
But on the other hand, Deya couldn’t wait to meet the kin folks. Yes, I knew what visions of family meant to her, butsadly, I wasn’t it. Still, I had to risk her involvement as a potential rope out of hell.
Meantime, we pressed onward to my dreaded hometown. I must have counted all the hog farms, catfish ponds, livestock yards, and chicken barns along our route. Being a country boy, I knew the smells, stinks, and how to identify them all. Yet dealing with my relatives and the death of Aunt Kathy were different kinds of shit to take in.”
― My Bully, My Aunt, & Her Final Gift
But on the other hand, Deya couldn’t wait to meet the kin folks. Yes, I knew what visions of family meant to her, butsadly, I wasn’t it. Still, I had to risk her involvement as a potential rope out of hell.
Meantime, we pressed onward to my dreaded hometown. I must have counted all the hog farms, catfish ponds, livestock yards, and chicken barns along our route. Being a country boy, I knew the smells, stinks, and how to identify them all. Yet dealing with my relatives and the death of Aunt Kathy were different kinds of shit to take in.”
― My Bully, My Aunt, & Her Final Gift
Tim’s 2024 Year in Books
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