The Night

The Night

You are a child in a small town. You are, to be exact, eight years old, and it is growing late at night. Late for you, accustomed to bedding in at nine or nine-thirty: once in a while perhaps begging Mom or Dad to let you stay up later to hear Sam and Henry on that...
Four Thousand Weeks

Four Thousand Weeks

Now that my daily duties involved a baby, I’d simply expanded my instrumental approach to accommodate the new reality: I wanted to know that I was doing whatever was required to obtain optimal future results in the domain of child-rearing as well. Except that...
Pebbles

Pebbles

When he was ten years old, Jeremy was walking along the main road, with his friend Benedict, out of the small town they lived in. Heading to build a den. Jeremy picked up a rubber band as they walked. Then he picked up a little pebble. Then he fashioned a catapult...
Still Life With Woodpecker

Still Life With Woodpecker

When the mystery of the connection goes, love goes. It’s that simple. This suggests that it isn’t love that is so important to us but the mystery itself. The love connection may be merely a device to put us in contact with the mystery, and we long for love...
The Pale King

The Pale King

‘My shit story. Hide-and-seek, gang of neighbourhood kids, twilight. I’m running for home base and trip over decorative logs somebody bordered his driveway with and went flying and put my hands out to like shield the impact and what do you suppose...