Confessions of an Arsonist
火 Ever since I was a little kid, I have been a pyromaniac. I understand pulchritude in the corpus of fire, its shape, arrays and radiant colors. Its eminent heat and energy. How elegantly it licks, sucks and swallows... My first memory of fire involved watching a middle-aged black man walking down the street. The black man paused midstride and pulled out a small square of silver from his coat pocket. The black man had these gargantuan hands, and with the plump ball of his thumb, he flicked...