pen

scene, somewhere

a long process of short fictions, or pieces of a puzzle i don’t have the entire picture to yet.

like all fiction, these hold some element of truth, some element of reality, some relation to real people and real times and places, despite the warning note as the credits roll by. but, as they say, that is merely coincidental.

i’ve started grouping these with the subtitle ‘scene, somewhere’ because i prefer not to tie the setting or characters  therein down to specific names or geographical coordinates. do i know where these people live?  more or less. do i know their names?

not yet. but does that matter?

so, then, from earliest written to most recent:

are you writing from the heart?

a day without rain

dying light

still life

third-degree breakfast

continuum

she

him

mourning light

and after that

alone

winter of discontinuity

nervosa

wasting 

intermezzo

ad astra

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