an old writer and his words

  • THE LIST

    I am compiling a list, ever so slowly, of places I still want to visit, and you may be surprised to find that Paris, London and Madrid are nowhere to be found. It isn’t that they lack beauty, charm and countless things to see and do, it is simply that they have been usurped by…

    Lou Faber

  • WHERE?

    The moment you are certain that you know where you are going is the precise moment at which you become totally lost. The moment you realize that you have little idea where you are and none about where you will end up is when you found yourself. At this moment you are here which was…

    Lou Faber

  • FOREVER, ALMOST

    It is a large boulder in the middle of a rutted path. That path leads nowhere in particular. It comes to an end at the edge of what appears to be a dense forest. Several trees are posted with “Do Not Trespass” signs, long faded until you must stare to make out the words. The…

    Lou Faber

  • ALONG THE WAY

      There are those desperately searching, who stumble along the way, tripping over the dharma gems lying in their path. Others proceed slowly, pausing to examine each pebble, each twig uncertain if it, just possibly, was the key to enlightenment. I wander along, going nowhere, knowing that is where the path must lead, and I…

    Lou Faber

  • RIDE

    There is a man standing at a bus stop. He waits at this bus stop each day, regardless of the weather. He is waiting patiently for a bus that will not come, the bus line was discontinued many months ago. He has a cast on his leg, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. It…

    Lou Faber

  • STAIRCASE

    It stands at the end of a very long hallway white walls, naked like giant canvasses awaiting the overdue artist. There are no doorways off this corridor, just the one behind you through which you entered what now seems hours ago. You stand as though rooted to the polished marble floor, your legs leaden, to…

    Lou Faber