Roma, Italia The early morning fog is heavy. It sticks to my sweaty skin. It is cold this morning, around ten degrees Celsius. Anna is sleeping in our small bed of an apartment only half a kilometre from the Vatican. I am walking to Piazza Giuseppe Garibaldi; it is a hill near the River Tiber. … More L’Ultimo
“We should go on a ride sometime.” Dave looks at me with his bright blue eyes. “We should go.” “I know.” I say to him. The evening stretches our shadows, our shapes grow and reach for eternity. The night will be here soon and they long to get away. Dave stands by his bike. It’s … More Sooner or Later
In rained today, a soft mist like it does on the coast sometimes. The water slowly soaks you through and you can feel it and smell the grass and trees drinking drinking it all. She looks over my shoulder. “You couldn’t have gotten that wet; you’ve only been out for a few minutes today.” A … More A Package in the Rain
A short and silly story. +++++++++ The air is stale here. Too many years of cigarettes, the recent laws passed that forbid public smoking weren’t enacted soon enough to save the walls here. I sit alone with a whiskey. The crowd is loud, like always. I have a feeling the owner in the … More Heavy, A Little, I think
When the rains came heavy the sea would turn a tumultuous gray. It would raise up and twist itself as it tried to bring the boat into itself and there would be a little bit of fear in men. But unless it became very bad and the sea became very greedy against the boat the … More Sjøen
I wrote this a few years ago after watching a Nat Geo documentary on the death marches of the Nazis. In our current world wide political climate, I think it is pertinent. This story contains adult content. The dead remember our silence, the dead remember our apathy. Chaim drops his hat. And … More Our Own Damnation
I’m sick. It’s seven in the morning. My damned internal alarm clock won’t let me sleep this hangover off. It’s the only one I’ll have on this Island. I promise. I pace through the kitchen. I pace through the living room. I run to the toilet. I’m sick. It goes on like this for an … More No Ka Oi
This is an older story I wrote years ago. I have never been to Brig. I would very much like to go. Light spilled onto the stone and he sipped his drink. The air coming off the river sifted its way through the street and he could smell spring in the air already. The language … More To Valais
The second video from our trip to Europe.
The smoke would sting your eyes and was constantly veiling everything. It would permeate your clothing. He walked through it and it was like walking through an eternal sheet hanging on a clothesline in the summer. Fifty years old and still going to these places. He was getting to old for this, he thought as … More Fate
Storied By Josh 