Not even his name
“Fifty years of public service”, my father sighed. His hand moved slowly, tracing the edge of the crystal bowl. I didn’t know what to say. “They couldn’t even spell my […]
“Fifty years of public service”, my father sighed. His hand moved slowly, tracing the edge of the crystal bowl. I didn’t know what to say. “They couldn’t even spell my […]
Writing about living in two places (and times)
Poems & Stories from The Author Stew
practising for a whole life
haikai poetry matters
Running in the slow lane
The view from here ... Or here!
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein
chronicling my quarter life crisis