an old writer and his words

  • ONCE TOO MANY

    He remembered his mother taking him to the opera once. It was an experience he hoped never to repeat in life and, man y years on, he had been successful in not doing so again. The opera was sung in English but he felt that only made it worse, for if was was sung in…

    Lou Faber

  • THE WAVES

    We, so far out at sea,see only the waves passing,the rise and fall, the rhythm,and cannot imagineit could be otherwise, You, on the shorecannot perceive the waveswe do, torn by the reefthat leaves you onlyimagining what you thinkthe waves might be. We cannot imaginethe silence, the isolationyou must feel in yourwaveless world withonly memory of…

    Lou Faber

  • THE LADIES

    It is an ungainly beast and its cry, as much a bleat as a roar, can pierce the air and is never easily ignored. There are far larger to be found, and far more beautiful. Some have voices that melt anger incite passion, alleviate pain. Some sing in a register so low touch and hearing…

    Lou Faber

  • AROUND

    What they simply cannot understand is what his take as a vinyl disc is a moment in a life, a memory encased, over which a dancing stylus bleeds dreams and a history of time is written on the back of its sleeve. They cannot grasp that music doesn’t fit neatly in your pocket, that your…

    Lou Faber

  • ON THE MESA

    At night, in these mountains you see a million stars, but all you hear is the silence. It bothers you, this silence and you strain to hear, what? There is no one here but you and your breath is swallowed by the night sky. Be still for the wind will rise, and these mountains and…

    Lou Faber