A Walk Between Worlds_A Frog Visits_The Shop On Ironwood Avenue_Salted River
Catalog Guide:
A Walk Between Worlds
"Stop that! It feels weird." A thousand icy fingers are trying to pilfer through my brain. My eyes squint at the discomfort. My forehead furrows. Now, it looks like a crinkle-cut French fry.I raise my hand in protest, hoping they stop this intrusion immediately. One of the 7 ft. tall light beings doubles over as if I just punched him in the solar plexus.“Owwwww, your kickback is powerful. Were you a sensitive in your former life?”“I don't know...whatever… Just stop the rummaging!" I reply. "My brain isn’t some garage sale for you to go looking through for valuables. ”I wonder what happened to ...
A Frog Visits
It rains and a frog arrives at your front door and asks if he can come in. You let him in because frogs don’t usually talk. Also, your grandmother taught you that hospitality is an ancient art, essential to civilization. So you ask the frog to come in, please, and he tells you that he’s hungry. This gives you pause. Embarrassed, you explain that you might not have anything that he would like.“What are you having?” “Some soup,” you explain. “Just vegetable soup out of a can and saltinwww.onedoor.cce crackers. My mother used to give us that on rainy days. She was a terrible cook. But now I like it. It reminds...
The Shop On Ironwood Avenue
Shao stood quietly behind his antiquated cash register. His father had opened this small roadside shop with the savings that he’d accumulated working in factories. His mother had worked tirelessly as a maid to help run the house. Together, they’d managed to buy the shop and have spent every single day placing orders, arguing with suppliers for cheapest prices, fixed the place with their own hands. The shop, dimly lit with old fluorescent tubes, was their sweat, blood, and pride. Holidays, weekends, school vacations, all were spent in the shop, and Shao had taken over when time came to it.Shao ...
Salted River
We live on the salted river. ‘Mimaeno’ the ancestors call it - ‘the woman who wept’. It stretches out along the horizon as far as I can see, flowing all the way from the land to the skies. The sun rises at its head and slumbers at its tail, following its movement with the same devotion as my people. I think it must wrap around the whole world, the way a snake strangles its prey.The river born from death only breeds death: the water is undrinkable and the fish who swim there are toxic. Yet we are the descendants of the river God who splintered into a million fragments under the weight of his ow...