Lispector, Clarice

The Fifth Story

I read recently about toxic bread in a sleepy French village, about mass hallucinations and the newly revealed hypothesis that the CIA was responsible for covert LSD experiments. Apparently, the same thing might have happened in the subways of New York. And suddenly, so much is explained, especially as pertains to cockroach-squashing memories.

These days, when the shadows on your computer screen start doing some sort of cold Finnish tango across the monitor, maybe you should refrain from thinking you work too hard, and just sit back and try to enjoy it.


(N.B. OH! And if this story doesn’t keep you sated until next time, you really should go and see my friends at Revolving Floor, where I’ve put voice to microphone on a glorious Lilithian poem by Amy Meckler. Get over there.)