One awoke in darkness and silence, the bedroom windows sealed with plywood and most of the animal calls either missing or muffled. In a quiet that dense, body sounds become audible, one hears blood surging and the bellows of the lungs. In a darkness that deep, fireflies dance across eyes that see...
No longer dealing with the frustrations of teaching or publishing, he wasn’t waking up in a high blood pressure rage, or barely containing a volatile anger. When we met, he’d been a charming alcoholic with a violent temper, a James Joyce sort of artist with a sparkling gift for words. I’d grown u...