an old writer and his words

  • BEING A PART

    He wanted, most of all, to bea part of something, butsomething that had never existed,a dissonance in an orderly universethat was slowly devolving into chaos.He was a shadow, seen only by dayand often ignored, not invisible, but nearly so.He would soon emerge from the darkness,welcome the day, the sun’s too briefappearance, his footsteps would echoa…

    Lou Faber

  • THE BLEEDING EDGE

    We are lovers of novelty, we wantall that is new or clingingto what we imagine are our roots.It has long been this way,you need only look at the map.Hampshire, York, Jersey, andfor that matter Brunswick and Mexico.We crave innovation, we alwayswant to be on the cutting edge, forgettingthat all too soon it will becomethe bleeding…

    Lou Faber

  • DUSK

    There is nothing like, nowords to adequately describe,that moment when a cloud-hazed sun lingers wishfullyjust above the horizon, graspingthe sky with brilliant talonsof light, fearing becominglost in a darkness that will,on this night of the new moon,engulf us all in its inky shroud. We know, or pray, the sunwill return in hours, justas the sun…

    Lou Faber

  • TALKING ART

    The good and the bad of acquiring a new work of art is that you have to listen carefully when it tells you just where in your home it has to be. You may have other ideas, but it is best to set them aside, for ultimately the art knows far better than you. All…

    Lou Faber

  • IN SEARCH OF

    The cat stares down from her new perch atop the living room bookcase. She watches us move about, wondering where she might be. She can tell we are getting increasingly frantic in our search as she is new here, and we are adapting to each other still. We look behind everywhere she might hide, but…

    Lou Faber

  • GOING HOME

    They say you cannot go homeagain, although I have neverhad occasion to meet them. I’ve never been one to followthe dictates of them, unless theywere my parents or spouse, andin the case of my parents, oftennot even when they demanded it,so I went back to the homeof my childhood, a shockinglynew place as I remembered…

    Lou Faber

  • A SMALL PAIL OF TRUTH

    The Good news about rom-coms is that Hollywood (and occasionally Paris, Lisbon and Madrid, but never Berlin) crank them out endlessly, and each contains that grain or two of truth, like salt rubbed in the wound of a failed first marriage, and the balm of the discovery of true and abiding love. The small pail…

    Lou Faber

  • SLIPPING AWAY

    Each day I am certain something more slips away, forgotten, no longer able to be recalled, lost in the vast abyss of yesterdays. I would like to think this happens because something new, something better has taken its place, and I had no choice but to displace it. That is the convenient story I tell…

    Lou Faber