The cult section of the literary world
by Avichai Brautigam There is a fly drowning in a puddle of honey on my kitchen table. Why? Because, with full knowledge of what would come of it, I left the golden brown for the catching of flies like this one. Alas, I think my fly… my prisoner… is dying. […]
by Bob Freville He always loved to sniff things, to whiff things. He always dug fresh smells. His first olfactory hallucination occurred in puberty. He got it bad after graduation. Bands of cilia saturated in what looked like rotting corpses but smelled like strips of cotton candy. Years had passed […]
