the crime comes last of all

an exercise in blurring the truth.

Monday, May 30, 2005

. . .you want to turn pirate yourself, is that it?

The house has no grass, and everything is covered in dust. In the front, a white fountain with four fish that touch at the heads is empty and dirty, like the rest of the property. Every day there are signs of construction, yet she has yet to see a single person or evidence of people. Not even gum wrappers or old soda cups hint that somebody once trod on the property. In a movie, it'd be a murder house.

It's right next door to the Swedish consulate.

Tuesday, May 17, 2005


It's morning. A quiet whirring descends in pitch as the train comes to a halt at the platform. Above her and to the left she notices a cheerful yet carefully inoffensive beep, and an even male voice says, "this train. . .is. . .Dalhousie."