an old writer and his words

  • ARRHYTHMIA

    Life ought be little more thanarrhythmic motion, a pathwe only want to straighten,to smooth, its natural, necessarytwists and bumps somehow,for we always see them asimpediments not momentsof joyous indecision wherethere are no wrong choicesfor each choice unfoldsa new path never trodden,never imagined or foreseen. A bird flies to where it needsto be, but for most…

    Lou Faber

  • THE FOG

    I speak to my father every week or so our conversations are as long as ever but we are rapidly becoming little more than a skipping record. He mostly recalls my name and the various parts one with the other of us has had rebuilt but even that is quickly slipping into the fog that…

    Lou Faber