So many tales beginin an alley, perhaps,in the rain. A plump ratembarks on a foray, havingplumbed the stink pit of a dumpster,the color of which isindistinguishable from the surrounding brick,puddles, stripped sky, the narrow tube —all that you would expect to findin a tale that beginswith a night, with an alley,with a dumpster, with a... Continue Reading →