Amritananda smiled. What a strange, quaint person this Rejident was, impeccable manners, soft-spoken and so out of place in the cesspool of Kathmandu politics.
I tell her that it’s 2062 where I come from.
Clocks are trouble. They lie. Women are trouble. They know when you’re lying. Bloody hell. I don’t know what day it is.
Image: Barun Khanal
There was a time when people in the great plains believed in nyāya. Not anymore. Not after what had happened.
“Y’know, Marilyn Monroe was a Russian spy?” “Nope. But a postman wrote Ham on Rye.”