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
There is a room that exists. It is called the quietest room in the universe. It is so quiet that one can hear their organs inside their own body. The longest a person has been able to stay in this room is forty five minutes. The silence maddens a person. It is a lonely, decent … More A Lonely Decent Place
The geese are daring to stay on the beach for a little longer. They seem to stop here on this island for one more party before they fly away home. Don’t cringe, the winter will wait just a little longer. The bay is a shore of sand bordering the wildland. There are three giant, gull … More The Island
It’s six thirty in the morning. The birds have just started calling. They’re different in the tropics than anywhere else. They are obnoxious, like a fat woman in the store complaining about the price of chicken. But they fit, for some reason, and he finds their noise comforting. The sun isn’t up yet and it’s … More Ahulani
As we drive down the road to our next destination she stares out the window. The sun shines down on her hair and makes it glow. It’s normally brown, but when she’s in the sun for very long it highlights. The sun uses her as a tapestry to paint its own beauty. She becomes a … More A Tapestry, Painted
This is a short blurb I wrote a few days after the infamous Paris Attacks in November of 2015. Anna and I were in Ireland when it happened. It was a terrible day. We visited Paris about a week after the attacks. It is a lovely city. German bombs from both wars couldn’t destroy Paris, … More La Marseillaise
There’s a scar in Ireland. It’s short, tiny, but very deep, and barely healing. The people use it to segregate themselves. British supporting “Unionists” on one side, Ireland Republic supporting “Nationalists” on the other. In all honesty, there are hundreds of these scars; they cut in and out of neighborhoods. Some have nothing but tall … More A Scar Called Peace
The German drinks many beers. More than I can. He sits in a booth and I sit in another. He is surrounded by fat Americans. They tell him things about American politics and he listens patiently, with a look in his eyes. He is not here. He is still snowmobiling. But the Americans do not … More A Short Trip
The air is still and wet. The humidity causes my father’s bones to hurt. He stretches after he climbs out of the little tent. It’s just above freezing and frost covers the ground. My little brother lies in his sleeping bag, sleeping soundly. The cold doesn’t bother him. I’ve been awake off and on … More Summer’s Beast
She was already a single mother, and I was just twenty two when she told me she was pregnant. The feelings were that of disbelief, a vague excitedness, and it felt fake, surreal. I felt like she wasn’t telling me but that I was watching her tell someone else. I felt like this wasn’t real … More Home
