an old writer and his words

  • THE PARK

    He was taking a shortcut across the park. He saw the clouds building, about to bring the long-promised rain. He wasn’t sure why he decided to walk home rather than take the bus as he usually did. He didn’t like to walk, but the doctor had told him he needed to exercise more, and he…

    Lou Faber

  • TOKYO SNAPSHOTS

    In the small yardof the matchbox housethe lone Ginkgotwisted by timefeels the barrennessof winter’s tongueand mournsits solitude. The apartment building looms upover the tracks of the Narita Expressthe balconies are deserted, savefor the laundry which flapsin the morning breeze,slapping with the gustsinto the small satellite dishesbolted to the railings. The ancient trees are twistedand gnarled,…

    Lou Faber

  • KP

    My younger step-siblings had it easyonce our father made seriouis money,for then my mother decided we neededa live in housekeeper, one whocould cook, clean and take careof all those things domestic. So my siblings had only to puttheir dishes near the sink,their laundry down the chute,and keep their rooms marginally tidy. I had missed most…

    Lou Faber

  • MEDITATION

    A wise Buddhist teacher once told me that anything you do, if you do it mindfully, can be a form of meditation, and I have taken this into my practice, albeit with mixed success, but that is one reason they call it practice. Walking silently, following your breath in and out, aware of your feet,…

    Lou Faber