histórias de Stalebutt

A sixteen year old, barbarously opinionated boy -- who's determined to claim his due, provide faces with stifling pillow hugs, and fake a chokehold with spider monkey techniques -- chances upon a crayon set street tragedy, and a friend who, eleven years ago, had left behind a pastel mud yellow shop, and a stranger, her stranger, trodden by a truck in front of it, and for whom no passer's shadow halted. - no one shades you from pulsing a home in a web hogged corner, and no one shaded her from her crayoned collision. he sat a rueful spectator. _ i hold no right over the cover.