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“Were he to put his hand on me, I would be revealed as nothing more than a newspaper, erect. A screen on which is projected the image of a boy. How could he love me? There's nothing to me except a place where the light resists moving forward. Okay, I say, instead. I will.” — Alexander Chee
Were he to put his hand on me, I would be revealed as nothing more than a newspaper, erect. A screen on which is projected the image of a boy. How could he love me? There's nothing to me except a place where the light resists moving forward. Okay, I say, instead. I will.