You haven’t seen a town ’til you’ve seen it from the back of a police car, Big-Dicked Sheila thought. Everything was a short story from that vantage; the world had such literary potential. Liminal, she remembered. Madame Cazee had taught her that word: it meant the space where two different realities rub up against each … Continue reading Out Of The Frying Pan And Out Of Little Aleppo