Writing is what makes me feel I am alive. It's the clouds of my breath and the coffee jitter shakes of my pen. It's the reminder that if I can't recollect it, I can always make it up. These are the bits and pieces that make up one shelf of the library in my head.
The most recent three pieces in a section are linked from here, but there are full indices in each section home page.
Essays, ramblings and other words
"What's it like, being in another country?" was the question.
Look to the skies
About ten years ago, I built up reasons to start smoking. And nowadays I'm collecting reasons to quit. Today, alas, I found a reason not to: smoke breaks.
A coffee shop. Strangeness. Coincidence. Crossroads. Caffeine. Magic. Honeysuckle and jasmine.
A story written for heyoka on her 32nd birthday, July 24 2000
If the world worked like cartoons, and all that could be, was...
A story about the heart of things, March 2002
Three Times Wise
2 March 2003
Books Read Halfway
18 February 2003
Other uses for matchboxes
24 August 2002