Status Updates From Sudden Fiction Latino: Shor...

"I am an orphan," said Death, apologizing. "No one took the time to give me a proper education."
The doll opened her eyes.

Once they are lost, the roots are irretrievable. The exile stands in vain at a street corner, next to a tree, glancing sideways at those long appendages that unite the plant to the earth -- the roots are not contagious, nor do they adhere to foreign bodies. Others think that if they stay long enough in the same city or country, someday they'll be granted fake roots... but no city is that generous.

But I began seeing myself other places. Not sitting here, not inside myself, but out there...I have seen myself inside that handle many times, but this feels like something more, something different. This feels not simply like I'm seeing myself, but that I'm seeing as well all the times I've seen myself --- and that make me think that I'm adding up, and that I feel like something in my hands.

Anything goes. Cold cream on the fresh- picked cranberries. No postmod cultural bull. Just pure vision -- the Marxist Blendinist Epicurean kind. You are atomic and nuclear, solar and parabolic. She knows you have the semiotic scope and the androgynous look.

she thought it seemed like a logical thing: the heart grows when one does something one hasn't done before, when one learns something one didn't know before, when one feels something different and better for the first time. And the odd sensation felt good. And she promised herself that her heart would keep growing. And growing. And growing.

In the seventh century A.D., a group of Bavarian theologians debates the sex of angels. Obviously, no one admits that women are capable of discussing theological matters; after all, back then it was doubtful they even had souls. Nevertheless, one of them is a cleverly disguised woman. She asserts emphatically that angels must only be male. She knows that among them will be a cleverly disguised woman.