
THE TORTOISE AND HIS PROBLEMS by Rodrigo Restrepo Montoya and Wes Holtermann
Hours spent nude on plinths in those drafty rooms, and only one painting had ever done him justice.

Hours spent nude on plinths in those drafty rooms, and only one painting had ever done him justice.

On bad days, I fantasized about taking a sledgehammer to the train. I knew where the security cameras were (and weren’t).

Pink light oozes in; just like that, it’s day, and I sigh because nothing bad can happen during the day. It’s a rule, and we don’t break rules.

Sunlight glimmered off the van’s undercarriage, rays of white and blue and golden light mingling in beams and flares captured by the helicopter’s dazed camera. The police took potshots at the minivan as it soared past them.


Well first they sent chimps into space. Then men. And now they say humans will not walk on mars. I’ve heard they’re saving that for robots.

I’ve always been confused about books that attempt to tell a straightforward, filmic plot through the written word. Isn’t that just a less-good version of a medium that already exists? Instead, why not adopt film’s self-confidence?

We signed a 72 and ¾ month lease for our studio. The market is tough in San Diego.

Sherlock Holmes Sherlock Holmes Sherlock Holmes Sherlock Holmes Sherlock Holmes Sherlock Holmes.

There is an otherworldly quality to many of these tales, a blurring of edges that gives the impression that the stories’ events take place somewhere between waking and sleeping.