an old writer and his words

  • INVASION

    The light has fadedand the wetland lies underits mantle of faint starlight. The birds are there, wecan hear them, but our eyesdo not allow us to see them,despite our desire to havemore time with them. They can see us, in our well lit homes, staring out,but they do not want particularly to see us. To us they…

    Lou Faber

  • THE ROOM

    It was a strange room,that much I recall, with heavyvelvet curtains coveringwhat should have been a window, and might once have been, but no longer.  The only light was a bare bulbin the ceiling, casting a soft amber wash across the time worn oak floor,and once white walls. There was a chair, nondescriptand now long forgottenand a small…

    Lou Faber

  • GAZING

    As a child I would often stare up into the night sky. The stars, the planets, at least the two I knew I could see. My parents didn’t think my behavior odd, they assumed I wanted to be a scientist and explore the universe. I let them believe this. It was far easier than explaining…

    Lou Faber

  • TRUE MEANING

    The iguana sits in the tree and stares at me. It isn’t clear whether he is daring me to climb the tree, knowing that I like most humans well into middle age are incapable of the task, or merely showing off, appreciative of an audience. A little child walking by points to the iguana, says,…

    Lou Faber