A New Kind of Literary Pulse

My very dear Claire,

I already know so much about you, and yet I have never actually seen you. For six months now, I have been passing you, sensing you, hearing you, closing my eyes when I ...  [+]

She lies down, stretching out across the trunk of a walnut tree cut during the spring.

All that's left of its bark are a few shreds, gradually withering away. 

With her back resting between ...  [+]

I can see myself going into my shower, quite happily, whistling. I can also remember that irresistible urge to smoke. The one that comes upon you anywhere, at any time. And you have to obey it.
So I ...  [+]

I am waiting… I am waiting.
I have always been waiting.
My eyes are closed, as they have always been.
My hands float in front of my face, and even if I can't see them, I know exactly what shape ...  [+]