Photo by Amr Taha™ on Unsplash
by Guy Biederman
Eugene needs more scotch. And perhaps some chips with baba ghanoush. But it’s wall-to-wall vegans and he’s pinned into a corner of the square bamboo floor in a house that floats by a sound-healing teacher of Now who has circular breathing absolutely down, stretching a sentence for hours until the boyfriend in bolo arrives, more circle than triangle. Eugene makes a dash for it— more straight than curve. Upgrades to wingtips at the door where shoes have been checked, and ellipses into the night unlaced. Soaring.
Guy Biederman divides his time between a houseboat, an adobe casa caretaking cats, a cabin, and the road in between. He favors strong coffee, scotch on the docks, and the desert’s wabi sabi beauty. It’s all true, especially the fiction.
