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You might still find him, a hermit hiding, in the philosophy section, sipping syllables and tea. He’s brimming with answers but lacks the matching questions. But if you ask him […]
You might still find him, a hermit hiding, in the philosophy section, sipping syllables and tea. He’s brimming with answers but lacks the matching questions. But if you ask him […]
The library has borders, books are fenced defence, defiance and his shelter. Sentences are bulwark, sentinels against the ignorance of those not yet enlightened. He believes in castles swords protecting […]
He knows by heart of apex moments, battles and the cusps of past, not from life or death but from the pinnacles of books and voices only he have glimpsed. […]
In spring the aged librarian sees in books the bloom; that from the words a growth of pansies and peonies, of columbine and blue forget-me-nots, and there are daisies, daffodils […]
There are moments when he talks to shadows. He knows they care and never interrupt to leave him like a light might do. The moon, the sun even candles shine […]
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
Now we see through a glass, darkly