rask_balavoine
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I do enjoy a good enigma.
Autumn turns to winter. 1986. Paris, Rue Daguerre to be more precise, and at dusk towards the end of a cold November day. Chestnuts roasting on a...
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- 254 reads
If only.
I bared myself to the doctor today: body, mind and soul. He’s new to the job, very young and most thorough, but he’s earned my confidence and trust...
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- 241 reads
Forget the memory.
Tonight, from a cluttered little graveyard of regrets and remorse, I exhume a melancholy memory inlaid with semi-precious stones. When the dirt it...
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- 298 reads
Fly me to Cuba.
Tonight the memory of the demise of Castro a few years ago and its attendant macabre carnival, stirred a melancholy recall in that part of my heart...
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- 457 reads
Grandfather.
My grandfather’s front parlour always reeked of pipe tobacco and slowly passing time, time that was so reluctant to glide along that only a new war...
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- 595 reads