richard oh

ACT 1 Scene One. Midnight. At the studio. The Maestro, with a white singlet on, wrapped round in sarong, stands before a blank canvas, staring hard. A paint brush in one hand and in another a cigar, whose smoke curls up and evaporates into the cone of light that is cast down from an over-hanging [...]

28  March  2008

Traveling with Books

I’ve always dreaded traveling. Don’t get me wrong though. I’m not some larded ass who prefers the familiarity of one place to another or some loon with a developed case of phobia for strangers. I’m way more ahead than any one of these fellows. I love the tingling serenity of the cabin, peering out through [...]