How could it be that there is nothing behind that face, unique as it is: crooked, worn from the grinding years of tension? How could it be that never was anyone home when there was such throbbing, such life force, to wear down his teeth and twist his body? His stormy words. His wild gestures. Such exuberance as parent and teacher. How could it be? … Continue reading Surface Show by M. A. Istvan Jr.