Beast on the Brink_Always A Sunny Side_waking_Tropical paradise
Catalog Guide:
Beast on the Brink
He stands in front of the bathroom mirror, adjusting his tie, thinking it would be so easy if he could simply adjust the droop of his eyelids, the mismatched colours of his scars, his uneven hairline. Is it too much, to put on a collar and tie for this? He has already decided that there is no point getting smart from the waist down for a Zoom interview and is still in his sweatpants, his feet bare as he pads around his penthouse. Ten years, twelve books – he leans closerwww.onedoor.cc towards the mirror, turning slightly to the left, pointlessly examining the texture of his cheek. How badly, he wonders, wil...
Always A Sunny Side
Henry lay in pre-dawn dark, eyes wide, thoughts circling. Was it Monday or Tuesday? Was it the 21st or the 22nd of the month? It was May, he was sure of that. It was May, right? Was it May? Crap! He missed being of sound mind even more than he missed having a body that didn’t ache from stem to stern. Henry rubbed both eyes with the fingers of one hand and tried to find some moisture with a tongue that had been hung out to dry for hours. It was Tuesday, wasn’t it? Yes? No? Was it Monday?Did it matter, when one day was going to be no more than a mirror image of the day…the week…the month before?...
waking
Past the horizon of the waking mind lies a land where the laws of logic and learning fail to apply.In this land there was once a man.The land he traveled was draped in night. Since the man was a boy the land was coated in a sickeningly sweet darkness that seeps into the nooks and crannies of the soul. The only defense against the night, which would lull the man into a depravity from which he may never escape, is the lamp which lights the path before him.The lamp was as old as the land and had guided him since boyhood. He knew no mother or father, only the lamps warmth and light pressed agains...
Tropical paradise
On arrival at the small airport on the island, the humid heat immediately enveloped me. By the time I passed through Immigration, I was dripping with sweat. My thin blouse was soaked and plastered on my back. I was pleasantly surprised to see my name sign among the sea of faces lined up in the sweltering heat at Arrivals. I didn't remember having booked a shuttle pickup from the airport. However, Iago Hotel, my final destination, had sent a driver. We took a scenic route of winding curves in the tropical paradise. As we parked outside Iago Hotel's main entrance, a young grinning porter clad in...