They said he had tuberculosis, but it was a mysterious death—one of the first I heard of—that fluttered the nerve endings of our collective subconscious. Someone was walking on our graves.
Posted in bookmaggot, grief, history | Comments Off on red carpets and other banana skins, by rupert everett
If you take a vacation with a close friend and it’s not the best goddamn time either of you has ever had in years, it was a flop, and marks the end of the good times between the two of you forever.
Posted in bookmaggot, friends, grief | Comments Off on meeting new people, by daniel lavery
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