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| Type | Title | Author | Replies | Last updated |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Story | D: Wallaby and Dogs | scanners | 0 | 11 years 9 months ago |
| Story | Children's Python | scanners | 0 | 11 years 9 months ago |
| Story | C: Ah, Lady | scanners | 0 | 11 years 9 months ago |
| Story | Black Kite | scanners | 0 | 11 years 9 months ago |
| Story | Battered Children | scanners | 0 | 11 years 9 months ago |
| Story | Artists | scanners | 0 | 11 years 9 months ago |
| Story | After the Ball | scanners | 0 | 11 years 9 months ago |
| Collection | Lamma Island | scanners | 0 | 11 years 9 months ago |
| Collection | True North | scanners | 0 | 11 years 9 months ago |
| Collection | Sad Pilgrimage | scanners | 0 | 11 years 9 months ago |
| Story | Wild Dogs | scanners | 0 | 11 years 10 months ago |
| Story | The Nuns of Shwedagon | scanners | 0 | 11 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Silence | scanners | 1 | 11 years 10 months ago |
| Story | On Temple Street | scanners | 1 | 11 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Self Portrait | scanners | 0 | 11 years 10 months ago |
| Story | The Queen of Hennessy Road | scanners | 0 | 11 years 10 months ago |
| Story | The Cuvu Villagers take Communion | scanners | 0 | 11 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Rain at Gunn Point | scanners | 0 | 11 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Snow Leopard | scanners | 0 | 11 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Language lesson | scanners | 0 | 11 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Mountain Temple, Bali | scanners | 0 | 11 years 10 months ago |
| Story | K:Forest Kingfisher | scanners | 0 | 11 years 10 months ago |
| Story | The Sun Bear | scanners | 0 | 11 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Sad Pilgrimage | scanners | 0 | 11 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Phoenix | scanners | 0 | 11 years 10 months ago |
My collections
My stories
The Nuns of Shwedagon
The Nuns of Shwedagon A clipping: from Shwedagon pagoda young Buddhist nuns file past the camera out into the heat and chaos of Rangoon. Their robes are palest coral and deep amber;
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- 441 reads
Silence
Silence In this clattering city, where the head swirls in the constant surf of sound – raised voices, the hollow rattle of heels on escalators, car-horns clamouring in demented chorus -
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- 1 comment
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- 637 reads
From Po Wah Yuen
From Po Wah Yuen On the other side of the world, on the other side of the day my black-haired love is sleeping. In a city without a name, in a house without a number
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- 578 reads
In the dark on the end of the line
In the dark on the end of the line my woman is softly sobbing, like a child lost alone in darkness, wounded and comfortless. I have cut her with my casual anger and cannot withdraw the words,
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- 456 reads
Evening Ferry
Evening Ferry I watch her board, my black-haired girl, leaving me once more for the family that is not hers, but swallows her youth in their service. When she leaves me
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- 1 comment
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- 672 reads