Being family
We’ll chain your hopes to outpoured milk and burn your laughter with small disasters. Being mother means to be smothered with silk Because you’re our slave and we are masters. […]
We’ll chain your hopes to outpoured milk and burn your laughter with small disasters. Being mother means to be smothered with silk Because you’re our slave and we are masters. […]
This is a continued story. Part 1 is here and Part 2 is here This is linked to Finish the story by Barbara W. Beacham where the picture and the […]
oldest of his seven brothers, my grandpa (whom I never met) his father born a farmer was a country priest who paved the way to education a path that all […]
More than 50 years ago a child was welcomed to Asia baptised in a bowl with history (the child was me) A little bowl from China decorated to a European […]
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