How The Days Of Love And Diphtheria (2012) - Plot & Excerpts
I don’t believe in innocence, he said. Few stories as old as the story of the boy whose family you killed. What authors of ruin, you with your black masks, your knives. Few stories so sorrowful as mother and father and how you left them strewn, cut apart and opened, how the birds and barn cats crawled within and slept, how they seemed under the wide light of the house you set ablaze. How your horses thundered the hillsides, clouds of dust and soot, the long green grasses gone black in your wake. How father was washing the car and then your knives slid into his throat. How father slept in his hammock and then before him, your black masks and long teeth. How father waited for you and your clouds of dust at the back porch with his repeating rifle, drunk on whiskey. Few stories so conflicted as who was found and how they were found as the story of mother and father found in each others’ arms, as the story of mother and father found disassembled and strewn and entirely apart, as the story of mother and father perhaps not found at all.
What do You think about How The Days Of Love And Diphtheria (2012)?
