Postcard from Metz

The kids have gone through the advent calendars and left the empties on the floor. Laurent is cooking a chapon for Christmas, which he translates as a castrated cock, good and greasy. Eight kids aged 4-11, seven of them girls,… Read More ›


Whatever pain it is that can only be expressed by killing Grows like a spore, travels by the winds to all reaches of the world. These infections flare up, heal over, get forgotten, recur. The cure is not to contain… Read More ›