“All five fingers were studded with bubonic welts, leathery growths etched in by the grip of his pen as he sat in his office and devoured dreams…”
The Leech
“It is my four hundredth and fortieth year upon this Earth, and I can no longer recognize my own face…”
Can’t You Hear Me Knocking?
“Six in the morning. Three knocks on the front door. On the threshold, the two men in their raven-black coats. Gray guns in their holsters, the strap unbuckled...”
Claylickers
“Beneath the earth they dug, shovels scraping away at the loam. Above them, the war raged on, a staccato heartbeat of artillery shells...”
-Virginia Woolf“Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.”
Pablo Lacalle Writing 