THE FACE ON THE CLOCK Once even I couldn't tell my left arm from my right. Time confused everyone before I bit the fingernails of one hand down to the wrist. Now, afraid of my hunger, it wants to...
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THE ASTRONAUT'S BODY Up. Down. Words without meaning. I only know there's no need to work hard to push blood to my head, no need for these muscles, these bones. Here, they are a burden. I let...
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You have to kill yourself, that’s all.” At this critical mo- This One Made of Rubber an improbable subject for transformation; and yet Chekhov turns this unlikeliness on its head, as...
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Daddy Long Arms Back in my hometown, there's a man (he is old now.) who would not let go of the coffin in which his wife lay. They finally took him by the arms and moved him back a...
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