The lake and other stories

The sun is a fussy performer at dawn and dusk. It promises everything, and nothing. Though we left Vic Hotel at 6:00am, Wanzalla had been awake well before that. Stirred to an anxious wakefulness every hour since he’d retired to bed. He peered at clock and sky before making for the lobby, raring to go. […]

Read More

Jean Pierre and the tiny penises

White t-shirt on scraggy chest, Jean Pierre pulls on levers that turn bank notes into lager. The frothy piss flows into slim glasses that are quickly lined up before the small crowd of revellers hanging around the counter. His dark hair is licked silver at the temples. His eyes, two dark strobes that shine out […]

Read More