an old writer and his words

  • THE SON

    He hangs on the guest room wall, simply framed in black, adjoining his more ornate, Cheshire- cat smiling sister. He isn’t brooding really, there is just a certain needful sadness, as he stares out, imagining how he pictured things would be, how they were supposed to be, realizing here, they never were, never will be,…

    Lou Faber

  • TOMORROW

    Tomorrow I will lie to him will tell him when he asks, at least the first ten times he he does, that she is doing fine, that she is a tough old bird, that she’ll outlive us all, that she’s a Taurus, the bull and he will remember the end of their marriage, the Battle…

    Lou Faber

  • D’ACCORD

    There is a reason for this as there is is a reason for most things whether we like it or not, I tell my son. He gives me that smile that says “I do not agree at all with that, but you are my father, and so I won’t disagree,” but I know he means…

    Lou Faber

  • GHOST SITTING

    I sat with the ghost again this morning, the one who inhabits the body that was once my father. Ghosts find it difficult to speak from within living bodies, so mostly it squeezed my hand and offered an occasional weak smile or nod, said I looked good, but ghosts do have trouble seeing out of…

    Lou Faber