by Sue Farrell Holler | Apr 23, 2012 | Events, Stories
At first, I thought they were hulls of sailboats, gleaming white and smooth in the morning sun. But that couldn’t be right; I was in landlocked northern Alberta. What were they? Giant pieces of sculpture? They were laid end-to-end on flat deck railroad cars, just...
by Sue Farrell Holler | Apr 16, 2012 | Stories
“Just relax and act natural,” she said as she pushed my legs to one side and adjusted my glasses. Relax? My lips turned up as naturally as that of a plastic mannequin in a store window. Relax when I’m on the wrong side of the camera? Relax in the same room with...
by Sue Farrell Holler | Apr 2, 2012 | Stories
It was an Underwood. Manual. Gun-metal grey, bulky and probably so heavy that I wouldn’t be able to lift it myself. It had a ribbon still in place, red on top, black on the bottom. The keys were black, and something about the curve of their metal supports just...
Recent Comments