A man struggles to find his words.
Father and son troubles…
It was Raymond’s suggestion. I had never really understood art, so I was never very inclined to visit art galleries. I can appreciate the colours, the skill; the talent … Continue reading It’s Art, Duh!
Monday Presumably there was something within my father—something that shook him awake at night, poked at his bowels daily, reached out of his mouth and slapped him in … Continue reading Something’s Gotta Be Done (Part One)
The mother (i) My mother calls while I’m in the middle of editing a piece that’s to run in a tabloid. I pick up, because she’ll keep … Continue reading Conversations with Family Members (and the Bits In-Between).
We were, the two of us, parked on a rock each, looking out at Galway Bay on a mild August night. Drunk and merry, drunk and pensive, but in … Continue reading The Closest We’ve Been