Still his mother
Blenda knocked once and waited. From behind the door she could hear people moving, but nobody opened. She knocked again; sharper this time. The door opened… Blenda recognized the woman. […]
Blenda knocked once and waited. From behind the door she could hear people moving, but nobody opened. She knocked again; sharper this time. The door opened… Blenda recognized the woman. […]
Her collection was impressive. Each of them carrying a memory. They all represented someone. Someone who had lived and breathed, someone once close to her. She sighed, each of them […]
Joseph touched his shaved chin and looked at himself in the mirror. Tonight he was better than ever before, his smile was innocent but had a lure that touched his […]
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