"He sketches the grumpy grandfathers on the little circle tables eating burritos from tissue paper wrapping. They are angry because their cheeks have started to sag over their lips."
"He sketches the grumpy grandfathers on the little circle tables eating burritos from tissue paper wrapping. They are angry because their cheeks have started to sag over their lips."
"My dad, the art teacher at the local university a year ago—and now just a brown couch. My dad: not Basquiat, and not Andy Warhol. Trying to be Monet with fuzzy quick paintings of real life. He‘s really just the art configurator at the front desk asking you to line up to view the hand gestures." ?
"The bowl of cereal on the bench is a gelatine fantasy, rotten milk shivering like Anna Pavlova."
I loved this book. It‘s weird but poetic and mysterious. Jamie Marina Lau is so young to have written such an intricate, clever work and I‘m excited to see what she comes up with next.
The noises we make are tigers in a bath house. Sweeping through soft rolls of water using flat paws. Palm leaves sweating and drooping into the sea.
The man in the suit pissing all over the bus stop is following behind us. When he turns off into a double story townhouse the whole universe exhales.