While reading Borges I, of course, fall into a labyrinth, change my name to Luke, eat at a diner with seats so sunken I know labyrinths keep labbing all around me, pulling me to darker depths - all while eggs crack and Swedish meatballs sulk - a waitress named Olanthe serves "piping" hot coffee but drifts lower and lower, no stopping, even for tips.
by Ken Pobo of Media
