The Tunisian sky at night was the deepest black he had ever seen—the stars pulsed like living things, and he wanted to run his fingers through them.
The three-years-running champion of the Hemingway look-alike contest moves like a broken-nosed boxer, big and graceful in his size-thirteen penny-loafers.
If two trains leave the station at 1:45 and are headed in the same direction…
"We keep the bodies back in the deep freeze till they're good and crunchy," he said. "Then, when the family comes for the viewing, we pull 'em out and let 'em defrost a little. Then there's no smell but that dry, deep-freeze kind of smell."
Leo’s grandmother was half mad and a quarter Navajo and she made a damn fine tequila that was so clear and smooth it drank like water—and could take your legs out from under you in—pretty much—nothing flat.
It was the summer of hats, large brimmed cowboy hats; the kind my grandfather always said made you look like a thumbtack.