How do people choose their final words? Do they realize their gravity? Are they fated to be wise?

No story sits by itself. Sometimes stories meet at corners and sometimes they cover one another completely, like stones beneath a river.

In the stories about life and death, the soul often floats above the goodbye moment, hovering over police cars at highway accidents, or clinging like a spider …

This is a story about a man named Eddie and it begins at the end, with Eddie dying in the sun. It might seem strange to start a story with an ending. But all e…

I can't die. It would wreck my image.

Qualis artifex pereo.

The waters were his winding sheet, the sea was made for his tomb; Yet for his fame the ocean sea, was not sufficient room.