Read The Shadows of Paradise – First Chapter

On a day when there is legitimate fear over the future of democracy with the inauguration of potentially dangerous, populist pseudo-autocrat, I have decided to embrace the democratic spirit, sidestep literary capitalism, and share with you, dear readers, the first chapter of my manuscript, The Shadows of Paradise. For more information about the novel read…

Memories of Icarus

      The Sun, the Sun   The sun, the sun, it flashes oceans of light Its radiance a halo around the earth, A god above gods, breather of days Conqueror of night’s vain silence! The men of horizons, women of towers, Children abused by vertigo, all and everyone Jealously worship the divine fingers…

The Blinding Myths of Easter

  The events of Easter never happened in the way people celebrate them. Everyone, even the most ardent believer, knows this on an intimate level. But religion, and its penchant for myth-making, is a will to simplicity and nostalgia which can be as irrational as the belief itself. What actually happened during the events of…

An Ode to Travel

  “Journeys are the midwives of thought.” This quote from Alain de Botton’s The Art of Travel goes a long way in explaining why almost everything I’ve ever written has been tinted with wanderlust. Human beings are lofty animals because we, uniquely, have a name for happiness. Other animals can only ‘do’ happiness – be…

Beauty and Impermanence

  He first noticed the girl the day after her mother died in a car crash. It was such a perfect day. One of the first days of spring that fills the sky with screaming brightness. How such a tragedy could happen on such a divine day was a mystery that hung heavy in the…

One and Only Childhood

One and Only Childhood   A house lit by the solitary sun Crowns a hill too distasteful to name. A white sky and a grey vertical climb, Greets the memories of my One and only childhood.   Days spent in the cobweb of fantasy Travelling, scheming and manipulating, Universes that only I knew existed. These…

The Games Time Plays

  A game of chess played under a Maltese cherry blossom. The spring was new and Sofia was young. Her father was a fluent chess player in his day and now he was passing on his un-fulfilled potential to Sofia. “Did you know, Sofia, that if you put one grain of rice on the first…

Mono no aware

Mono no aware   All day long the sky dreams of stars. Yet when the stars begin to sing The sky is filled with regret.   A sparrow leaps across the old sky, The Medina sinks in the pond of violet dusk And there is nothing but the morrow.   The capers crawl into the…

Poems of Seasonal Modernity

A Waterfall of Silence   A waterfall of silence, Somewhere in human hearts. In the Levant or the Orient, A tear falls on death’s ears.   There’s nothing to love But love itself, And where children die The planet turns.   For the great happiness of all Stars do their nocturnal ballet. For the memories…

I Want My War

  Dedicated to the survivors of Srebrenica   “The local soldiers didn’t even have a uniform. A lot of them were just kids fighting in their Converse and jeans. When they weren’t at the frontline I saw them surviving like the best animal, and every night they’d be gather around a burning car tyre trying…

The Belly of New York

We need to start talking about why you look Mexican. Being Maltese I am – we are – sufficiently mixed with Latinate blood to pass, especially with the right facial hair, for something resembling a Mexican. Buy, my daughter, why you have to look like an Aztec princess gazing down on a queue of sacrificial…

Doubt and Apostasy in Golgotha

  A golden-faced Christ looked down on me from the dome. His Byzantine face was sterner than the blonde countenance of the European Jew that gave us Christmas. Like some Andy Warhol print Jesus’ face has been replicated like rain-drops in a violent night sky. Growing up I have seen him in musicals, churches, key-chains,…

Epicurean Realism

  Ever since I was small I was fascinated by the big role little things played in people’s lives. Being an argumentative sort I always pitted imaginary battles in my heads: food vs. career; football vs. relationships; mementos vs. ambitions. Of course now that I’m older and presumably wiser I know it’s not a case…