read about 35-year-old lina khan. jon stewart's interview also features her brilliance. an ancestral misstep: one can have arms or wings but not both
in her spacious washington office lined with 1920s political cartoons
concentration of corporate power can in some instances be deeply antithetical to liberty
some of her backers have speculated that if trump wins this year's election, he could reappoint her
the agency she saw as the "tip of the spear" for economic justice
unlike some young leftists these days, khan and her fellow antitrust travelers aren't socialists
wrote as i hear the mostly-paired syllables. these next forty maybe wildest stretch since durer painted woaer half a thousand years ago
could not fit "outlook not so good" nor "not bloody likely" into clairvoyant triangle real estate of the scalp. before i was bald, i was magic 8-balled
drew fridge train magnet and door to door solicitor wins interest of one human and six cats. uni-ball 207 mechanical pencil on recicle filibook
laid over in lisbon, malo dental roadside loiterers drinking breakfast. would poe's raven perch on rembrandt's pallas? in demon dreams, perchance
stared at pepper no. 30 for a moment like hisham matar in front of siena d&g caravaggio. surname ferreira signifies smith, cristo rei imperial decline
read of love and other demons by gabriel garcia marquez, an eclipse in there too
her hair, which had never been cut
the animal contracted rabies during the naval siege by the english, bit its owner on the face, and escaped to the nearby hills. the unfortunate man was clubbed to death while suffering fearful hallucinations, which mothers still sang about many years later in popular ballads meant to frighten children
the courage to poison the food of their rabid kin in order to spare them a ghastly death
don't just stand there like a corpse
the curative harp
"i am not talking to you," said abrenuncio. "i think in low latin"
she arrived from spain with the disassembled parts of a clavichord, which she put together herself
inspired by the lyricism of the holy spirit
the hands of an artist and the ear of an artilleryman
dona olalla was struck down by lightning..when he returned from the cemetery, he was surprised by a storm of little paper birds falling like snow on the orange trees in the orchard. he caught one of them, unfolded it, and read: that lightning bolt was mine
nostalgia for what had never been
hurried, heartless siesta love in the evangelical shade of the orange trees. the madwomen encouraged them from the terraces with indecent songs, and celebrated their triumphs with stadium ovations
with judas she learned to chew tobacco and coca leaves mixed with ashes of the yarumo tree, like the indians in the sierra nevada. in the taverns she experimented with cannabis from india, turpentine from cyprus, peyote from real de catorce, and at least once, opium from the nao of china brought by filipino traffickers
pickled iguana and armadillo stew
from san lazaro hill they observed the fatal swamps to the east, and to the west the enormous red sun as it sank into a flaming sea. she asked what was on the other side of the ocean, and he replied: "the world"
a portuguese jew expelled from the peninsula..resurrected a tailor in the district of getsemani
hundred-year-old horses are not the work of god
the ocean, always in its place
he adjusted the mosquito netting so the bats would not drain her blood
the last memory he had of sierva maria was her crossing the gallery in the garden, dragging her painful foot, and disappearing into the pavilion of those interred in life
she played diabolo with the adults in the kitchen and the children in the courtyard, and won every game. she sang in yoruban, congolese, and mandingo, and even those who did not understand listened to her, enthralled. for lunch she ate a dish of the goat's eyes and testicles cooked in lard and seasoned with burning spices
maritime charts, an astrolabe and other navigational instruments, and a globe of the earth with additions and emendations that successive cartographers had made by hand as the size of the world increased
"for you was i born, for you do i have life, for you i will die, for you am i now dying." sierva maria smiled without looking at him. he closed his eyes to be sure she was not an illusion of the shadows. when he opened them the vision had disappeared, but the library was saturated with the scent of her gardenias
all the stars came out at the same time
the nun in his service bought a candle and several pieces of smoked glass for looking at the sun. the bishop sat up in the hammock and began to observe the eclipse through the glass
the counterfeit night
she stood on a cloud surrounded by a court of submissive demons
i've seen snow
in the orchard, wearing his saracen djellaba and toledo cap, the marquis was taking his siesta in the hammock, his entire body covered in orange blossoms
voltaire in latin is almost a heresy
it is the demon, father..the most terrible one of all
the burlap tunic worn by those who nursed lepers
"whoever you may be," he shouted. "i command you in the name of christ, lord god of all that is visible and invisible, of all that is, was, and will be, to abandon this body redeemed by baptism, and return to darkness"..the bishop took a deep breath and opened his mouth again to continue the exorcism, but the air died inside his chest and he could not expel it
if you bit your tongue you would poison yourself
grapes that grew back as soon as she ate them
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