Joseph on Fear“There is no fear,” Joseph Whiteall told me. His flash drive was burnt, there was a gallon of whole milk on the counter that had gone bad, and all he could talk about was fear. “It’s really just an illusion.” He nodded his head knowingly, grinning. I could never tell whether his grin was cock-sure or had a hint of self-laughter in it.Joseph on Fear
His apartment stank. I mean, really stank. In the time that I knew him, I had seen him clean it once. Maybe. But he was a man of ideas, never content to lower himself down the to physical world to do mundane things like showering and shaving, even though these days it only took a minute.
NS
Previous Page12345Next Page