VI. Windows

[Partly translated by Arthur.] It hits me like a shot of heroin, and I don’t know why. Light through rain through the bus window, slamming and diving at my reflection, a blur dissolving into the painted world outside. Like in Fallen Angels. I straighten my tank top. Rain droplets wash through and over, sanding away […]

Posted in: Asia Pacific, Fiction by Matt Mucci Comments Off on VI. Windows , , ,

IV. Explanations

[I called LAX the next morning. After stopping at Watsons, she met me for the train ride towards the Island. We stood at one end of the car and talked. What follows is both translation and transcription. Arthur] I got the name LAX while I lived in California. San Francisco, mostly. My aunt gave it […]

Posted in: Fiction by Matt Mucci Comments Off on IV. Explanations

File: Report: D0

Rain runs down glass (looking at it). Stereo set. Under and over. Stood smoking a cigarette under an eve. A women with blue hair slips, falls, her umbrella smacking against her neighbor. A man down the street turns, wearing orange, hawker color. D. and I met at a tea canteen about half past six—storefront beneath […]

Posted in: Fiction by Matt Mucci Comments Off on File: Report: D0

Jackhammer Nights

Photo by Christopher DeWolf I had trouble finding the bar. Street after street flashed into focus and flashed out again, all looking more or less like each other. The same crowds, the same intense and overexposed light. The same unreal feeling, as if the city never ended or altered but ran this way forever. To […]

Posted in: Fiction by Matt Mucci Comments Off on Jackhammer Nights

Only Decent?

Translated by Arthur. I live in Shatin, which is only decent. It would be radical if I could walk to a good bakery. I received a phone call last night, in my bedroom. I don’t think anybody else heard the phone ring. Not my sister, not my mother, no one. After taking the call, I […]

Posted in: Fiction by Matt Mucci Comments Off on Only Decent?

Nothing But Good Times

Park Avenue, Tuesday 3am. Photo by Christopher DeWolf Sylvie was thinking about what she should wear that night when the old woman started waving the $5 bill in her face. She’d already gone on to the next customer, pushing his things through so she could start ringing them up. When she looked around, she was […]

Posted in: Fiction by Mary Soderstrom Comments Off on Nothing But Good Times

Mong Kok Fiction: AC

One Night in Mongkok. Photo by Christopher DeWolf. Wet. One second standing on the sidewalk, screaming at my cell, flick the clock forward, sopping wet. An air conditioner box exploded over my head. I remember it as a cutting, little slivers of time; first droplet, expected if unwanted, second, began inching towards the street, third, […]