“I do not like to expose my neck to the barber. My head is full of migratory birds, thinks Kato, walking the dust park remembering the lush fish. On the way to work, a plump man always stopped to ask for loose change. She refused until one day. That one day changed the rest of the days. He always found her. Whether she was far from his favourite tram tracks, under a scraggly tree, or lining up to buy beetroot for Borscht, he was there with his hand asking for more loose change. “
My new surreal-absurd new micro fiction in the magazine Blood+Honey.
It’s about the magic of pickled herring. It takes place in Poland. You can read the story at: https://www.bloodhoneylit.com/fiction/pickled-herring
Never Mind the Beasts 
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