Noah Wareness: 2 books

As the sickly boy dreams in bed, the shadows beneath his parlor curtain are stirring, taking shapes inexpressible even in a child's dreams. "Real keeps us silent," argues the taxidermied rabbit to the young air-rifle that shot it dead. "Real keeps us still. You must never ask anyone...

Youth of today don’t know fuckall of history. They’re just swinging through the bank vaults on liana vines, setting bonfires, throwing shurikens at hogs. Born here and talking like the yuppies came to us. Like humped in overnight cross the freeway with brain sludge mustaches and the air all mergency...