fiction about art – michael jarmer

I slept for seven hours cuddled up with my tiny electric fan–literally. I thought maybe I’d roll over in the middle of the night and knock it off the mattress, or, worse, dreaming that I was snuggling with this machine, I might wake up with my hair caught in the fan blades. No, it was safeContinue reading “Dispatches From Writer’s Camp: Tropical Flesh Mandala”