From the Bookshelf of SOS: Serious Overload of Series…

These are the things I think about when I’m opening people’s skulls. When I’m eating what they hide inside.

What I want are the moments I will never have. The warm ones. The living ones. And it’s never until I’ve chewed through those rubbery layers of triviality and years-thick crusts of detachment that I finally get what I came for.

The only time I understand what a family

These are the things I think about when I’m opening people’s skulls. When I’m eating what they hide inside.

What I want are the moments I will never have. The warm ones. The living ones. And it’s never until I’ve chewed through those rubbery layers of triviality and years-thick crusts of detachment that I finally get what I came for.

The only time I understand what a family is is when I’m eating one. When I can move from a father’s brain to his son’s, from a brother’s to his sister’s, feel all the resentments mingling with loyalty; the envy and anger with stubborn, tenacious love. It’s a wonderful experience and a rare one, but I get it more often around the holidays, when families foolishly corner themselves all in one room, letting the warm glow of their candles and the scent of roasted turkey creep through their boarded windows, calling out to me as I wander the icy streets.