“Memories – Steel Tears, Stolen Memories, and Peace on Earth: as told by Donny DiTaglio” by Michael Koh

Life was created when the earth and the sky and the sky and the earth collided with such force that knocked craters back out on all sides of the continents and one would feel the volatile cascading tremors wheeze back and forth through the canyons and the valleys of the now demolished and desolate and waterlogged land that once used to house the famous Charyn Valley which was called Castle Valley in English which was a language spoken only by the elite and the rich and the literate back when the times were not too tough which was a very long time ago which was about the time when my great-great-great-great-grandparents had bought a house in Istanbul and drank hot coffee and ate nothing but rice cakes for a decade and a half until collapsing from a brain aneurism that hit both of them within three months which is to say is not far from the truth because that same aneurism hit my great-great-great-grandparents exactly thirty-three years later and again thirty-three years after that to my great-great-grandparents living in the same house in Istanbul that my great-great-great-great-grandparents had bought for themselves until they had drunk their last cup of coffee and tasted their last stale rice cake on this earthly realm that possesses nothing but greed and lust and despair that I cannot seem to leave but my grandmother said to me that I would never be able to escape this world because I am destined to die by something of another world and that was the last thing she had said to me before she died from a brain aneurism herself and I couldn’t help but wonder and I can’t help but wonder now if I will die from an alien brain aneurism or an alien brain probe that will result in a brain aneurism or if I will be sent out to space and die from a brain aneurism there but know that will never come of it because the space program has been discontinued for over a century and a half after the great dust storm that wiped big cities clean of cemented acne and steel ingrown girders protruding from the porous surface of the craggy rocks that was once midtown former America and if one looks hard enough during the time when the bright orange dusting sun is high as the shadows run long dark rivers on the beds dried up long ago that had once been housing for wild pygmies and fleet foxes one can find beads of water hidden under the silky sand and the fibrous veins of the haunted and all one can do is sit and cry and watch the tears fall and fall and fall and see to it that it does not disappear and feel an overwhelming sense of loss and loneliness and apathy and terrible visions of darkness and nothingness and one can only brace himself for death that will never come.

Profile: Michael Koh

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