the whore of Solna Street

Okay, this sounds weird, but I wanted to write a light-hearted story based in the Holocaust. After all, as Gunter Grass writes, "On sorrow floats laughter." The new story is called, The Whore of Solna Street. It's 1942, deep inside German-occupied Poland. The matchmaker offers Erno Hammer, a poor tailor, the most beautiful girl he's... Continue Reading →

no one takes home the chickens

They peep, the chicks, flapping up a cloud of dust with their sienna-colored wings, hopping from one jury-rigged roost to the next in the dog crate I've set up for them next to the rabbit hutch. When I throw chicken feed into the crate, they scratch at the ground with their yellow claws, already powerful,... Continue Reading →

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