an old writer and his words

  • MISPLACING

    The river through the city hereis badly misplaced, not so much boringas missing something a city river should have.There are no tall buildingsstaring down at the river, no peoplegazing out of office windowswatching the shadows of their prisonsdance on the moving waters.Even in smaller cities the riversbisect its life, people noticing,peering down as they cross…

    Lou Faber

  • MOVING

    When we tell friendsand acquaintances that weare moving up the coast,they look at us quizzically. We think they wonder whywe are leaving our friends,a world we have come to know,for a place so alien to us. We tell them that was by farthe hardest part, letting goof those we treasure, hopingthey will soon come to…

    Lou Faber

  • AN AFTERNOON STROLL

    There are three of themand they walk slowly along the sideof the road, proud yes, but are theyold men who see no need to hurry,or self-assumed royalty who dare not. Nor is it clear if they are the samegroup who gathered outsidethe ornate gateway into PGA Villagetwo weeks ago, perhaps tired ofthe endless greens fees…

    Lou Faber