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Light crept across the snow in the backyard and the snow became blindingly bright--it seemed more than white, seemed more like empty space, like a crisp sheet of paper just fed through the roller of a typewriter. Adam Golaski spins dark, weird tales in the original sense of the word: uncanny, unearthly, sometimes fantastic and always slightly off-center. These are stories to be savored late at night in bed, read by the light of a single lamp in an empty, dark house.
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Worse Than Myself, Adam Golaski
- Lingua
- Pubblicato
- 2008
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- (In brossura)
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