Curious Hungarian Synthesia

Larissa Dooley
Facebook icon Share via Facebook Twitter icon Share via Twitter
More Reads

Mother’s Pianos

Whispering at night, I think I hear my mother’s voice: did I turn off the stove? No not this but did you plant the tulips over my grave? No, not this, not this—my ...



He was bending her over a table then he had to write something down about airplanes. Her own compliant demesne was full of leopards, partly accounting for their ...


Old Mosquito

They say so much sky in her chest addicted her. They claim, with inappropriate laughter, she requested to be put in a bird house, refusing to believe in the quiet. Hers ...