The girl doesn’t mind. She has an imagination that needs flexing, freedom to roam. As she narrates to her mother, the girl pictures herself as a cement truck spewing golden tar, making a clean new road that the two of them will walk on soon, arm in arm, escaping to a fun land, like the yellow brick road leading to Oz.
-
tornbread liked this
-
aleatoricism liked this
-
beejax reblogged this from fwriction
-
bridgetgamble liked this
-
seneha liked this
-
exclamationerin liked this
-
fwriction posted this
Loading tweets...
Likes
-
“A blue light
radiates from my clothing.
Midwinter.
Clattering tambourines of ice.
I close my...” -
“They are scarcely adult, some men: they wish women to understand them, and to that end they tell...
-
Interview with Pam Houston
In many of your stories, your characters come close to dying. Why do...
-
“And like everyone else, who you are is in part about your race, in part about your class—what’s...”
-
This is delightful.
-
“Do not whine… Do not complain. Work harder. Spend more time alone.”
—Joan Didion, Blue Nights -
It’s a cozy nook, really, but Ludvig is packed with everything I need, save for coffee: Smith...
-
Where do you write? Where do you work? Where do you update your Tumblr? The spaces in which we...
-
Princess Bride/ First Year Composition
via McSweeney’s Internet Tendency:
LINES FROM THE...
-
How We Will Read: Laura Miller and Maud Newton
In which we talk with Findings about our reasons for...
Hi. I'm Danny Goodman. It's nice to meet you.
This is fwriction, the official blog for the online literary journal, fwriction : review. Follow @fwriction Submit to fwriction : review
This is fwriction, the official blog for the online literary journal, fwriction : review. Follow @fwriction Submit to fwriction : review
Editor
fwriction
fwriction
Subscribe via RSS
Follow on Tumblr
Mobile version
Random post