Postcard Stories – Minneapolis


1st October 2014 – Becca Farmer

“The very spot where Robert Allan Zimmerman first slipped his home town skin and stepped on stage as Bob Dylan is now a parking lot, caught between target and Subway Sandwiches. Everyday dozens of students and business professionals walk unsuspecting across this parking lot in pursuit of turkey subs and BLTs. Their sandwiches, haunted as they are by the ghost of long gone songs and guitar stories, do not taste like ordinary American sandwiches. Even an average egg salad will leave the consumer humming softly as they return to their car or SUV.”

2nd October 2014 – Esther Haller-Clarke

“Approximately 5 to 10 years after their term in office ends, American presidents are discretely relocated to the Mall of America on the outskirts of Minneapolis/St Paul. There they are permitted to spend their retirement in the glorious anonymity offered by four square miles of retails options. Shuffling from one branch of Barnes and Noble to the next, they become virtually indistinguishable from the other seniors taking their daily constitutionals, Starbucks cup in hand. And, if the urge to declare war should come upon them suddenly like a misplaced memory, they can always tip over a rack of citrus hand wash in Bed Bath and Beyond, and stand, damp-footed and complicit, in their own mess.”

3rd October 2014 – Nathaniel Joseph McAuley

“During the early months of 2014 the temperature in Minneapolis/St Paul dipped vindictively low. At minus twenty the glass in the Guthrie Theatre turned the impermeable colour of a Fox’s Glaciar Mint. At minus thirty the Mississippi lost momentum and, almost frozen, could barely keep to the sluggish pace of a just-pored malt. At minus forty even the ghost F. Scott Fitzgerald froze solid to the St Paul’s sidewalk, an ‘old-fashioned’ iced permanently against his blue ghost lips.”


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