(A ghost story…or not)

After asking about the cemetery last evening, the one seen in the photographs hanging in the hotel room, I rise early to begin my two-mile trek alongside the river, following the directions of the hotel owner. The path takes me into the hills, amid scenes of wild serenity, to the…

There’s not much to know. I’ve been fortunate. Now I write.

Image: Author

My life began beneath a shrub on a roundabout in Gants Hill, Essex, U.K. (No, I’m not Moses!) I was found by a young couple leaving the Odeon cinema having spent their evening watching a Spencer Tracy movie, Edward, My Son.

With no parents claiming me, I was put up…

I just heard that Justice Breyer, Supreme Court, is about to announce his retirement. I was halfway through writing this when I heard. How odd.

Photo by Brandon Mowinkel on Unsplash

If I could sketch a portrait of a person, in words alone, the person America needs right now, he or she would have to be the most remarkable person I’ve ever known. This person would have a profound influence over the politics of this country and be respected in other…

Her honest words were: come back, I want to be with you.

Image: Author

You’re incredible, but somewhere, something of what you are is alien to me, not to be judged by superficial standards, morals, ethics, but something curiously dirty, known only to the tramp in you.

Sometimes the Amazonian woman, painted mask, never found without deep exploration. Or the woman in Vegas, legs…

Predestined. This word, when I was old enough to understand, didn’t alarm me. In fact, as each predestined event happened, I was ready for it. I knew in my heart, at sixteen, that I would hurt people. Sometimes it wasn’t enough to hurt emotionally. Physical hurt brought results. A broken nose, split lip, but something overwhelming stopped me from physically harming a woman. When the woman I love from the utmost depths of my heart becomes afraid of being physically hurt by me, my heart deflates in a way one could not understand on the page. There’s no intention. It’s the result of a nightmare that occurs and reoccurs. Jenny likens it to a soldier who has seen combat. There’s no way one can forget fear, or the desperate regret of how one handles it. It is savage, and nothing comes to man so terrible as fear. It happened. It lives in a dark corner of the mind.

Photo by Graham Meyer on Unsplash

I’m twenty-six years old, staring out to sea, having illegally boarded a Norwegian whaling vessel.

In the dream, I can see the woman as vividly as on that fateful January day when I first set eyes upon her, but her presence lives within me. I remember, she gave me a…

Harry Hogg

I was born in London, adopted, lived my youth on an island off the west coast of Scotland. I now live in California. I write to travel.

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