In my earliest memory, my grandfather is bald as a stone and he takes me to see the tigers.

Everything necessary to understand my grandfather lies between two stories: the story of the tiger’s wife, and the story of the deathless man. These stories run like secret rivers through all the other stories of...

It’s a sad thing to see, because as far as I know, this man Gavo had done nothing to deserve being shot in the back of the head at his own funeral. Twice.

No matter how grave the secret, how imperative absolute silence, someone would always feel the urge to confess, and an unleashed secret is a terrible force.

In the end, all you want is someone to long for you when it comes time to put you in the ground.

Believe me, Doctor, if your life ends in suddenness you will be glad it did, and if it does not you will wish it had. You will want suddenness, Doctor.

…fear and pain are immediate, and that, when they’re gone, we’re left with the concept, but not the true memory–why else…would anyone give birth more than once?

…a hazy yellow moon was climbing along the curve of the old basilica on the hill. As it rose, it seemed to be gathering the silence up around it like a net.

Grandfather recently died. He died alone on a trip away from home in a town where no one expected him to be

Knowing, above all, that I would come looking, and find what he had left for me, all that remained of The Jungle Book in the pocket of his doctor’s coat, that folder-up, yellowed page torn...