Posthumous Child/ Charles Dickens
I was a posthumous child. My father’s eyes had closed upon the light of this world six months, when mine opened on it. There is something strange to me, even now, in the reflection that he […]
Somewhere in the South/ Truman Capote
Noon City is not much to look up.There is only one street … . These buildings are grouped so closely together they seem to form a ramshackled palace thrown together overnight by a half-wit carpenter. Now across the road in isolation stand two other structures: a jail, and a tall queer tottering ginger-colored house. […]
