Status Updates From Lettipark: Erzählungen

‘—full moon—a late spring—we had both stood in front of the house—arms crossed looking up at the moon, so pale and white as if made of Chinese rice paper, & as if it had once belonged to both of us, and that this, for reasons not clear to us, was now over and done with once and for all. He said he was the moon man, & I said ‘What did the moon do to you?’ ‘The moon did me in. It really fucked me up.’ I said nothing’

‘The briquettes clattered down onto—winter grass—silvery coal dust rose into the air. When the fire is almost out, she puts on more of the freshly cut wood—For the first time in her life she is keeping a fire going. It’s working better than she thought it would—wood is dry & burns readily—it’s difficult because she doesn’t want to let the fire get too big—if it gets too big, someone might—join her—The moon is oily—’

Help! Nog maar zes verhalen te gaan!