an old writer and his words

  • RELATIVITY

    I can no more imagine a lack of freedom then they can imagine the freedom I assume. It is always like that imaginings are real until you try to make them corporeal, then the evanescence is all that is real. It is easy to ask how can they live in such poverty, and had they…

    Lou Faber

  • WITHOUT WITHIN

    Within a rock there is another rock that sits in the middle of the stream, in sight, just out of reach. Within a cloud there is another cloud whose rain has fed a barren field. Within this city there is another city whose streets I have walked in countless dreams. Within this mirror there is…

    Lou Faber

  • REISHO’S BRIGHT AND CLEAR

    As you stare into the mirror it is your reflection you believe that you clearly see. As the face in the mirror stares at you, it is its face it believes that it sees reflected. There is one face and there are a thousand faces. A reflection on Case 88 of the Shobogenzo

    Lou Faber

  • TS’UI YEN’S EYEBROWS

    The question is a simple one, really, but not one you were expecting, which is why you sit and grapple for an answer. Ask yourself, what if no answer is needed, what if there is no answer, can you remain silent, or will you feel somehow incomplete if you do not respond? All answers are…

    Lou Faber

  • REALITY RHYMES

    Little Jack Horner sat in a corner suffering from a severe narcissistic personality disorder. Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he, until he died from a combination of cirrhosis of the liver and emphysema. Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet eating her curds and whey, and…

    Lou Faber

  • SCHRODINGER’S DREAM

    Inside the box the cat is alive and the cat is not alive but Schrodinger is dead or the idea of Schrodinger is dead. We walking into the store – he was sitting, rough hewn face in hands, staring at a table covering, ignoring our approach.  He barely looked up when we paid when the…

    Lou Faber

  • TAKING FLIGHT

    A man ran down the street this morning, flapping his arms. It wasn’t clear if he was running for exercise, moving his arms in the bitter cold, or actually thinking they were wings and with enough motion he might take off. There is also the possibility that he was simply crazy and a look at…

    Lou Faber

  • ACROSS THE ABYSS

    The gulf between dream and nightmare is easily bridged in a single step. It should not be a step taken lightly, but one taken in both directions. We coddle dreams, dread nightmares, but we tell them apart on a level neither they nor we can hope to understand. Both are reality. Neither is reality. And…

    Lou Faber