On the platform between the subway tracks, a young woman was playing the violin. A few dollar bills and coins were scattered over the inside of her case. She played semiclassical versions of pop tunes that Maria couldn’t quite recognize. The music was nice, and the young woman had a sweet, pleasant face, but as soon as she got onto the crowded subway car Maria knew that she had made a mistake. It was a simple procedure, they had said, but not that simple . . .
Tag: New York City
To celebrate the release of Tehran at Twilight, we’re pleased to feature a statement from author Salar Abdoh on the psychology behind his new book.
The floor was covered with Timothy’s blood when Maurice came down the steps from the dining room to see how things were moving along . . .
I was born in 1962 in Stuyvesant Town, a middle-class housing development located on the East Side of Manhattan. When I was young, I used to see an older kid who rode his ten-speed bicycle through the neighborhood. He always wore a Superman costume, and he steered the bicycle with his feet, with his hands always high over his head and his red Superman cape flapping in the wind behind him . . .
An explosion of splinters stabs up his spine. Carrick’s eyes shutter open. Where the fuck am I? . . .