"Two young people, 29 and seventeen, found dead in an apartment. 29 is his little brother. "
Here's a toast to the living on the blonde side. Documenting the mild narcissism and nighttime wisdom of a little wise guy living on nine lives. Selected essays and fiction.
Timea is a fiction writer, critic, and social researcher. She completed her doctorate in Social Policy at the University of Oxford in 2021. She currently resides in Belgrade, Serbia.
"Two young people, 29 and seventeen, found dead in an apartment. 29 is his little brother. "
"Blood doesn't stay fresh for long, so when Saul finds his father, the blood is brown."
"He makes me feel sixteen again, like I'm twenty men younger."
"New Year's Eve came, and it came so hard."
'"You changed my life" sounds so heavy, you'd think it was destined for caps locks.'
I have an inkling that sometimes the big, black, seemingly-indifferent cosmos aligns stars and constellations to fuck you. And when it does, it usually plunges for your weakest organ: your heart.
"Like a ghost of bitches past, I've jumped up menacingly from the bottom of your bed demanding margaritas and orgasms."
But you came in like the love of my life. Swept up the whole room like a storm moving through oceans.
His pain is immortal: it survived generations, bred in quiet rooms filled with hushed tones, sweaty women pinned on beds fucked to conception, mouths stuffed with secrets.
I've written some long and drunken thank you notes to men I knew for fifteen minutes: thanks for the dinner, the sex, and the punch in the heart. But now never call again — never think of me again.
"Ever so foolishly in love with you! Always so foolishly in love with you!"
Somebody told me that when you lie in the jaw of crocodile, you won't be alive long enough to hear the snap and thrash of gnashers and teeth.