I dreamed about killing you again last night

I dreamed about Kate last night. We sat behind her, me and the family, my wife and our girls, in Poland, in an auditorium, no leg room between our hard wooden seats and the ones in front, one of which was hers, Kate’s. As the massive crowd let out, outside, the girls ran ahead, as…

Words like violence break the silence

Ideas continue to bubble up, and sometimes desire. But there is no time, and not much energy. Writing feels like something I used to do, a long time ago. The actors always convince me, to my horror, that most of what I’ve written about them until now is false. It is false because I write…