by Nick Tabone | Feb 22, 2021 | Non-fiction
We are following a meandering country path. The way is led by a sea of Lellux (a local yellow flower) and an enthusiastic nine year old named Izzy. The almond trees are in bloom and their thin branches reach over stone walls, the pink and white...
by Nick Tabone | Feb 16, 2021 | Non-fiction
for Maurice, Moira, Veronica and Patrick Follow me down a narrow country lane. High, dry stone walls sheathe the road tightly and small birds flit back and forth between them. The sky is an incandescent blue and the sun is high up in...
by Nick Tabone | Feb 11, 2021 | Fiction
I. Every day after work, the old man walked his dog in the woods downtown. The city had veins of wooded trails running through it and he liked to walk on them and when he felt the soil beneath his feet and the shade of the tall trees’ canopy, he could close his eyes...
by Nick Tabone | Feb 9, 2021 | Poetry
Some days, I’ll run around a walled city. And inside a walled city. Beside a Grand Harbourand opposite other walled cities. I’ll run beneath great walls that slope upwards to battlements and gardens where the branches of tall carobspeek out over the...
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