I suppose I should’ve listened to my Gramoon when she scolded me with her old sayings.
Tag: Jean Wolfersteig
Time marches on! What a ridiculous cliché. If I had a minute for every time I’ve heard it, I’d . . . well, don’t get me started.
We huddled around the card table last night, scheming about dusting outta this joint during the morning bus trip.
As usual, Deadman has left me a car at the airport, and, for the first time since Irma hit, I bump along the rutted streets of Road Town.
This morning, the front page of the East Hampton Star headlined the robbery and spectacular murder of a local resident in her home. Strangled with fishing line . . .
Featured: Black Interest
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- Kingston Noir (Jamaica)
- The Warmest December
- Prospero’s Daughter
- Coming Up Hot: Eight New Poets from the Caribbean
- Black Marks
- She’s Gone
- Black Lotus
- Trinidad Noir
- Lagos Noir (Nigeria)
- So Many Islands: Stories from the Caribbean, Mediterranean, Indian, and Pacific Oceans