A single note, held in an amber suspension of time, like a charcoal drawing of Icarus falling. It … - Karen Russell

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In my photographs it is apparent that there was no posing at the moment I released the shutter.

Karen Russell

A single note, held in an amber suspension of time, like a charcoal drawing of Icarus falling. It was sad and fierce all at once, alive with a lonely purity. It went on and on, until my own lungs were burning. “What bird are you calling?” I asked finally, when I couldn’t stand it any longer. The Bird Man stopped whistling. He grinned, so that I could see all his pebbly teeth. “You.

Charcoal, Fall, Lonely, Men, Note, See

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Tin House magazine is a port in the storm for people who love language. It is unfailingly excellent, and committed to publishing new voices in addition to delivering freaky-fresh work from established writers.

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I would love to travel around the world working for a travel company taking students abroad on cultural immersion trips.

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America's great talent, I think, is to generate desires that would never have occurred, natively,. . . and to make those desires so painfully real that money becomes a fiction, an imaginary means to some concrete end.

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I'm probably a lot closer than perhaps the contents of my early fiction suggest to a jaded Denny's waitress with smoker's-lung-black humor than a ghost hunter.

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At the end of the block where I used to live in Coconut Grove in Miami, there's a swampy area, a no-name alcove with a little mangrove estuary. It's beautiful.

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