• And they were separated by two wrinkles that said to the Minotaur, Go away!

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • The Minotaur swung his legs around and sat up on the edge of the pool table.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • The Minotaur ran his hand over his beard and felt the flecks of gristle.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • The Minotaur closed his eyes again, and when he opened them he was alone.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • To the Minotaur, humanity consisted of loud noises and a series of cowardly and craven acts.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • In the middle of such a place, the Minotaur constructed a square of rocks a mile across.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • In another way, the Minotaur began to wonder if he was getting too old for his job.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • She looked at the Minotaur and pulled out a bottle of Rolling Rock.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • The Minotaur was a novice of arc and swell and dip, a new-minted connoisseur of smooth and tender and sway.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • It is true that the Minotaur was very strong and that his head was nearly as wide as his shoulders.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • The Minotaur figured that this was her way of telling him the time had come for him to eat her.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • The end had always been the same: the Minotaur patting his belly, pulling a sucked femur from his slick lips.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • All of the other girls had run when they saw the Minotaur.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • Then, one day, the new girl was gone, and the Minotaur worried that, in a moment of thoughtlessness, he had gobbled her up.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • Sometimes a yellowish light laminated a bend in the tunnel wall, and the Minotaur was sure the new girl was hiding just around the corner.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • The Minotaur wandered drafty spaces that smelled like a paper mill.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • Eventually, the Minotaur discovered that the ceiling was not the translucent blue plastic he had always assumed it was but blue-painted plaster, cracked and warped with age.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • And so, once again, the Minotaur would start to run.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • The Minotaur lumbered across a rusty bog empurpled with heather.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • The Minotaur felt his heart go weak, and his hands.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • Mr Gibbons wrote the best-selling book Shadow of the Minotaur.

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  • At the intersection of four corridors, a gang of new arrivals made short work of the Minotaur and left him stretched out on the paving stones, so much hacked meat.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • The Minotaur turned out to be a fast learner.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • If you really are the Minotaur, I mean.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • There are two standout speeches - her mad fantasy about helping Hippolytus find his way out of the Minotaur's labyrinth and later her deranged imaginings about his love for the captive princess Aricia (Ruth Negga).

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  • To his embarrassment was added shame, and the Minotaur found that he could bear his message of ultimate truth only on the sly, when the new girl was asleep, or when she was looking the other way.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • The Minotaur was silent for a moment.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • She started to tell the Minotaur.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • The Minotaur developed new technology.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

  • The Minotaur stopped talking.

    NEWYORKER: Ziggurat

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