knees, struggles to get up, one foot under the handcart as though the cart weighs enough to pin him down. ... Then she's seeing only a blur of concrete and bare moving legs and big athletic shoes and the ... a twittering panic of tiny flickers and flutters. "Fucking Christ she's fucking biting ...

their hair and set off homeward along the mountain footpath. Soon emerging from the rocky chaos, they ... Page 329 from Issue 27 tired, wet as puppies, they climbed back, found their shoes, and clumsily ... set about putting them on their wet, seashell-pink feet; they ran their fingers cursorily through ...

pack, set about to chucking clumps, but it was all clumps. She'd be winnowing her way to China. ... tation where a landslide had drop kicked chunks of cliff into the tree­ tops, gouging out a wide rubbly ... flanks. She stretched her arms, bones ticking under pack straps, and turned to the garden, or someday ...

Pavese's name without mentioning the terrific power of the scene in one of his early stories when a woman ... didn't think of too much-until you saw her running around the indoor track in her black tights and tee ... shirt, sweating, pushing her body to the limit yet remaining graceful and it's true, sexy beyond ...