Author: Daniel D. Watkins

There were two things in Graham’s life: his guitar playing and his girlfriend’s plot. Maybe they were connected somehow.   Graham was an unusually talented guitar player. The fingers of his right hand performed their work on the strings as if they had a life of their own. The fingers of his left hand obediently…

Krzysztof Nietzsche-Przybysz sank tentatively into a chair that was a little low. Across the table sat Mr. Davis. Krysztof’s fairly new acquaintance glanced over his menu, before putting it down.  This evening, after work, Krzysztoff Nietzsche-Prybysz had come with an ardent desire to confide in Mr. Davis something that he felt was not just necessary…

Shortly after the funeral, Paul’s eldest sister, Mary, rang to say they were going down to the house, would he come? She spoke vaguely about some items in the will. Though Mary was distant and he wasn’t really listening, he answered vaguely that he would.  Their mother’s house was in Petersfield. She had moved there…

The worst thing in life is boredom. I had an English teacher who forbade the class from ever describing anything as being ‘boring’. The other terms forbidden by Mr Carlos were: ‘nice’ and ‘can’t’. He used the latter term a great deal, especially when telling us we couldn’t use the word ‘boring’ and even though,…

On a Wednesday afternoon in June 1967, my mother fell asleep on a sun lounger parked under the bone dry of a Californian cobalt heaven that domed over our back yard, vaulted over our rented house on Pasea Laredo, soared creaselessly over the neighbourhood of La Jolla, bowed over the vast Pacific, arched to Earth…