This is my day in the sun and I’ve got my arms in the air, my head tipped back like the hinged lid of a lighter. Contrary to popular belief, I am not alone. Everyone’s listening. All I see is the bulging gas above me and I’m shooting my mind at it. I’m as close to God as I’ll ever be. The people are tiny. They’re buckshot around my ankles. I could kneel and run my fingers through them.
Lucy Corin, from The Entire Predicament.
Everyone says Lucy Corin creates worlds, so I am going to pass on that one. Lucy Corin creates Cornish hens, light yet succulent on the gray tongue of my brain. That’s better than worlds. It might be metaphor, magic realism, or everyday life, I will let you decide. Corin has this light touch, this light touch with her prose. It is mysterious like Japanese dolls. I like it.