an old writer and his words

  • IF EINSTEIN WAS

    If Einstein was correct relatively speaking, the arrow of time, rusted in place, indomitable, can be freed, torn from its mooring and set adrift defying its natural inclination.                           As the lights of Seoul were engulfed by a blanket of clouds which in…

    Lou Faber

  • SEOUL NIGHTS

    they wander             up and down                         cluttered streets     alleys             under blazing signs                         OP.10 Nightclub       Club Alaska                Hesed Disco streets taped             with posters                         Dancoh Discotheque                young men flicking                                     business cards    cardboard confetti                         Venturi “Coffee and Whiskey”               neon flashing Bulgari Nigh…

    Lou Faber

  • SEOUL: A TALE OF TWO CITIES

    Namdaeman is a ghetto of shops and stalls, where men squat cupping cigarettes and gesture, their hands grasping stacks of bills, rocking on their heels until they leap up to a patron, asking this price or that, assessing the will of the buyer by the thickness of his or her wallet. An old woman sits…

    Lou Faber

  • KANGNAM STYLE

    The kimchi and pickles are presented in neat Celadon dishes carefully arranged on the small table. The meat sizzles on the iron dome resting above the bucket of orange hot coals set into the table littered with half empty and fully drained bottles of Hite beer and thimble glasses of Soju. The waitress snips the…

    Lou Faber

  • SEOUL

    Thursday night, and Planet Hollywood in Seoul is dead, more smiling staff than diners, the bar a well polished wasteland, no lines in the gift shop, the Penguin mask staring out over the almost empty dining room. As we leave, having consumed half a bottle of soju between us to the blare of the endless videos,…

    Lou Faber

  • CRADLING NIGHT

    Last night the moon hid daring the stars to give chase across the void but they preferred their slow procession. I looked long, hard for her but she was master of this game. I looked for her behind the neon signs blazing from countless buildings electric grave stones marking the resting place of peace on…

    Lou Faber

  • CHONGDONG MARKET

    I Little old woman sits cross legged on a faded cushion. She nods as we enter and touch the ancient chest. She rocks slowly in place, older than the ancient stone carving guarding her doorway.   II In the narrow, dingy hall giant pots nestle against stone carvings. A fat Buddha smiles at a rice…

    Lou Faber