"There’s this photograph of my dad, from the late 1990s, in an old album somewhere on a bookshelf. He is standing on a rock, laughing. His hair is wavy, and he’s tan. The ocean is behind him. "
“‘You ever see someone choke on one of those?' Vito asked the vendor, pointing to a hot dog. From the other side of the metallic counter, the vendor’s eyes slowly shifted up from his phone." Fiction.
On the ways that Gertrude Stein "challenges the reader’s fundamental understanding of language and its utility."