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every other man

The light outside the main entrance to our building has gone out again. The heavy metal door swings wide as I pull a hat down over my ears. In the darkness there are maybe twenty teenagers standing still. My boot scrapes across the ground, slowing down. Their hands in pockets, shoulders hunched, I look for a space to pass between them. A voice appears, saying hello in English, with an obvious accent. I am all instinct, sayingpivyet as I pass, not looking back, wondering who said this. There was a boy that was an extra in Blackbetty that lives in our building, but he is too young, too short for it to have been him.

I look back, navigating the puddles in the street. It does not make any sense.

N is with V, making their way home. I meet them, pulling V into my arms as she chatters about her day, about dry leaves and princesses, about her grandmother's apartment and what she ate there. We are going back home, and I try to explain the odd collection that stands outside. As we pass th…

the forbidden zone


I cannot tell you, and you must not ask. There are words that cannot be said, even quietly. To be speak freely, so many still take this for granted. I do not.

There are vast expanses of life I cannot discuss anywhere. All too much like the forbidden zone in the original planet of the apes. Too many secrets are buried there, beneath the sand.

No hero will come on a dark horse, bucking convention, flaunting the warnings. because this is not a movie.


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