Garten literarischer Wirrungen / Garden of Literary Confusion

  (A tale from a not so distant past) Dedicated to Zoyâ Pirzâd Morad had not arrived by the agreed time, was already fifteen minutes late....

As usual, I enter the apartment at night. Everything is sepia, as in old sepia photographs, with that old-fashioned, dusty feel. Things are ...

“Oh my God,” James thought, “what am I doing all by myself in this neo-apocalyptic landscape?” “But at least there’s a three-legged chair ...