by Andrew Gifford The post-apocalyptic genre is all the rage now in the literary world. I can’t even keep up with the new titles that come out. That wasn’t always the case, though. When I was young, to fulfill my post-apocalyptic cravings, I had to comb through the...
1 I had done my second girlfriend wrong. I was still doing her wrong as I sat in the bedroom waiting and wondering whether she would hear my page over the blare of airport announcements, the shouts of friends spotting friends and family greeting family. But why did it...
Is writing not something of great magnificence? If so, why can we not make a difference? The world has never been static, neither has writing. It is dynamic. It makes the world revel and reveal itself. Out went the traditional writing feather or pen, and in surged the...
A Sense of Place: Echo Park, Dinosaur National Monument, Colorado …round apples glowing red in the orchard and the rustle of the leaves make me pause to think how many other than human forces affect us… I respond – how? Virginia Woolf – “A Sketch of the Past”...
My affair with Ivy Hall, the physical affair, started on a shaky note. I had set out to meet her for the first time, after hundreds of emailed correspondence. It was half-past eleven in the morning, and I was sitting inside a moving train, looking outside the window,...
Our business in Gallup was concluded. It had been a great working trip this time. Lots of new contacts and lots of amazing new work. We had shed most of our feeling of being strangers, finally. “You wanna go to a Yeii’bi’Chai, tonight?” Maureen wore a blinding grin....
