an old writer and his words

  • SEEKING THE BUDDHA

    I looked for you on the bullet train from Osaka to Tokyo, but perhaps you were in the unreserved car sharing a seat with a small girl, and a withered old woman, eyes closed, staring placidly at the holy mountain shrouded in clouds.

    Lou Faber

  • DOUBLE ESPRESSO

    Buddha walked slowly into the coffee house and ordered a large mochachino. He approached the sofa in the corner and folded himself neatly and precisely into and among its overstuffed cushions to the delight of a five year old pulling at his mother’s sweater as she struggles to finish her latte. “The body,” Buddha says…

    Lou Faber

  • BUDDHA AND HILLEL DINE TOGETHER

    The meeting occurred by chance, two old men sitting in the same park staring at the same empty chess board as the waves of the Stygian Sea lapped against the break wall, the ferryman now at the helm of the great cargo ship. “So,” said Hillel, “you come here often?” Old, bent Buddha paused “as…

    Lou Faber