
If you can arrange it, the best way to see Barcelona’s piece de resistance, Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia cathedral, is on a gurney, with someone to push you around inside while you lie on your back to study the heights of its sublime architecture – the tendrils of stone bridging space that any other cathedral architect…

In private, we began with handcuffs, a shiny silver pair of handcuffs. I would take June’s small and delicate wrist in my hands and rub my thumbs across the softest, whitest skin there. June would exhale a soft moan at the touch of the steel, and then there would be the click of the mechanism…

Jules, my kid sister, is a million miles away in Bavaria nursing her father figure complex. She lives in snow with Otto, a widower who drives a vintage BMW to Lion’s Club meetings in Munich and Kempten. Jules is playing the cool Euro Babe but she’s really hiding out while trying to force a marriage.

Damn community-meeting suckin up smoke-time. My B-time. It all just a waste of time. Staff don’t know nothin, nohow. Look at Mr. Eric up there tellin us about scams. Watch out for the Magazine People. They out there, tryin to get you.

A girl watches her father through the screen door, a pack of Kools and short glass of whisky beside him. He faces the fields and the woods beyond him. Bobwhites call in the distance. He calls back to them, a high mournful whistle, cigarette smoke curling around his buzzcut, tight ears shining in the porch…