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Rawi Hage

Ten thousand bombs had fallen and I was waiting for death to come and scoop its daily share from a bowl of limbs and blood. I walked down the street under the falling bombs. The streets were empty. I walked above humans hid­den in shelters like colon more

Short Stories

ADVICE FOR THE LIT-LORN
WRITING QUESTIONS, QUANDARIES & PICKLES

Is it cuckoo to go back and work on a book I started
a few years ago, and which I have super mixed
feelings about? 

Jesey R., Tacoma WA

Read the answer from Geist Editors!

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