Skip to main content



Playing in four dimensions [poem]

In the big house
of the old friend
I passed through
an empty room

No one uses this room
I thought

And then the children
who had made the room
suddenly ran about
playing hide and seek
arranging toys in inscrutable patterns
sitting in that alcove over there
reading a book

The room is sad
and so am I
that the children are now
playing somewhere else

but then we remember
that they are out there
still playing

Latest posts

Film Review 2017 - #15 Platoon

Once in a Thousand Years [a story]

On Lost Potential

On Driving the Same Car

On recursion

On Being Nice

On Obesity

In the long run, we're in trouble