an old writer and his words

  • EDGING

    We are good at borders.As much as we like drawing them,taking a bit more perhapsthan we ought, settling if forcedfor what is right or at least just,we like crossing them more.There is adventure in crossinga border, more so if you can do itwithout being invited, seenor captured and turned away.How do you think we got…

    Lou Faber

  • SOCKING MEMORY

    It appears unexpectedlylike a sock from behind the dryerlong after its matehas been discarded or converted to rag.You have looked for itever since it went missingand knowing the way of socksand their hiding placesthe dryer was one of the firstplaces you looked for it.Memories are much like socksnow and again running offand hiding, leaving half…

    Lou Faber

  • DAITSU CHISHO BUDDHA 無門關 九

    Twenty thousand generationsa hundredhundred livesthe briefest momentin being, there isno becoming, no leaving and nothing is attainedfor there is no needof attainment, Seijowhispered tono one. A reflection on Case 9 of the Mumonkan (The Gateless Gate Koans)

    Lou Faber

  • DETOUR

    He always wanted to take the scenic route home, it didn’t matter if it took longer, he probably preferred that and he rarely commented on the scenery. It was more that he didn’t want to get where they were going and the scenic route was guaranteed to take longer and with luck they’d get lost…

    Lou Faber

  • HANGING

    She says she feels like she is getting to the end of her rope. He tells her to hold on more tightly, that he will search for additional rope and when he finds it, tie the new rope to the old. She says he could just go out and buy a new rope, much longer…

    Lou Faber

  • DIEM

    Slipping away into the night the absence isn’t noticeable and by the time you discover the disappearance, it is too late, and there is nothing at all that can be done, so you move onto the next thing and the thing after that, and memory will fade slowly, until none is left. If it was…

    Lou Faber

  • AND WHAT IS LEFT BEHIND

    She calls them around her bedside but they stand back fearful of the withered ghost hovering on the sheets, until one, eldest, touches her extended hand with a finger as if passed through a flame. I will be leaving soon she tells them, if not tomorrow then a day later and I will take the…

    Lou Faber