James Joyce ‘Ulysses’
David Bowie Black Book
Andy Warhol ‘Paintings and Sculpture 1961-1963’
Jihad Lahham
Anais Nin ‘Delta of Venus’
Sammy paused, then punched his hand through the window. He licked the purple blood from his fingers. "That tastes good!" he exclaimed. I fainted. When I came to, the rug was green and the house was a home. "What should we do?" he asked. "I don't know," I shook my head, "but let's eat something quick." Bats circled us as we walked the beaten path. The sky was painted hazel, but I've never been good with colors. Could've been just blue. I wanted to fly like a kite. Sammy licked the blood from his fingers. "They taste good," he said. "Stop it," I begged, but he kept on. "The black trees! The black bees!" I yelled, hoping to distract him. "My hands!" he exclaimed. His hands had become candy, so we went home.
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