A Guest House in Alexandria

After the long walk along the Nile I arrived at the hostel. An old man, in a white jellaba led me through a warren of rooms. He had a greying beard and was a little portly. “There is a place,” he assured me, “only one pound.” The Egyptian pound was pegged one to one with the British pound in those days. Still, it was very cheap.

I just didn’t remember coming here before visiting Uncle Vartan.

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Designers on the Top of a Brownstone

We are on the top floor of a brownstone that FG has bought and an interior designer is around to measure curtains on the front wall. The thing is, there is only the front wall. And apart from half of an adjacent wall the remaining sides are just bare rooftop sky, exposed to the elements.

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More Than a Writing Dilemma in a Tarot Card

More than a writing dilemma in a tarot card

Where can I fit destruction into my story?

About my trip to Lantau to see the tarot card reader, when I had to first cut the cards after shuffling them to get a start point. And the destruction card came up, its unfamiliar tower struck by lightning. Maggie French took it and immediately discarded it without analyzing it; even though I knew that it had viciously provided the truth at that moment.

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Grey Street, Grey Stores and What is Reel

Grey streets, grey stores and what is reel

I am in an open top convertible, silver, driving along a deserted street on the way to Mum and Mao Senior’s house. Or is it to my own?

There is nothing on the street. No people, no other cars, everything is grey with a thin film of dust, the skyscrapers in the distance, the strip malls, even the road itself. Until I see the bright lit yellow sign of a liquor store coming up on the right.

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The Light in the Attic

A light in the attic

Siobhan comes to bed. Turn off the music, she says. I am half asleep but I reach over and hit the mute button.

“Do I have to do it?!” She sounds annoyed, as she comes round to my side of the bed.

“I did it already!” I reply.

Later on, I am fully asleep when she reaches over, gently touches my arm.

“What is the time?” she asks. But I am asleep. She reaches further over.

“Ngghh,” I mutter and I push out at her. “Why you waking me?” And I push her more.

“Don’t fight me,” she exclaims, “I am not a ghost!”

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