Note from Magadan
While Andrei is securing the box full of guns, Natasha and I get in the car. It’s a black SUV four-by-four, streaked with scratches, raised on huge, flinty tires. She takes the passenger seat, I clamber in the back; I’m . . .
Brick, a literary journal
Brick
PO Box 609, Stn P
Toronto, ON M5S 2Y4
Canada
I would like to be a writer who, if I cannot convey things in themselves, captures the air as it touches the world. — Kyo Maclear