Morning light burst through the lace curtains. George rose up slowly and looked to the empty bed and the small room. “I suppose that’s the way it happens in this city,” he said. It saddened him that there was not at least a morning adieu, the chance to change the schedule for the day or … More Searching For Henri by Richard Stanford – Part II
George suspected that the bar with its brightly lit windows bathing the dark stream of the outer boulevard in a sheet of flames would be a good place to start. He figured that any man who grew up among the idle rich of Geneva would find solace in a place like the Folies-Bergère regardless of … More Searching For Henri by Richard Stanford – Part I
All photographs are MEMENTO MORI, a reminder of mortality. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s (or things’) mortality, vulnerability, mutability.Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, these photographs testify to time’s relentless melt. * * * * * * * The photographs taken before 2007were done with analog negatives … More Memento Mori by Richard Stanford
The closing lines of Reuben’s weekly column rolled out from the typewriter. The radio was on. Buddy Holly, Not Fade Away and he typed to the rhythm:bop…bop..bopbop…bop…bop…bopbop…” Through the curtain of snow dual headlight beams sliced across the ceiling. He concentrated on the last line while outside the rumbling of a car engine cut out, … More Chevy Bel Air by Richard Stanford
A cinematic script from R. Stanford.The postcard flutters into his lap. He picks it up and brings it closer to the shimmering light of the fire. He reads the hand written note: “Father said he did tell B., Margaret.” He turns it over and reads to whom it was addressed. Ovi Magazine: 1st Edition: November … More eBook: The postcard by Richard Stanford
He took dead aim naturally without thinking about it under the bright sunlight, without considering alternatives. His left eye was focused, steady, his long fingers held the rifle loosely, straight and true. From the dilapidated barn behind the house he could hear his grandfather talking to the chickens while he fed them. There was a … More The Fedora Kid by Richard Stanford 2019-01-26
Heading out on my first walk with Nell, I did not think my wife Janice and I had adopted a dog so much as a gazelle. Her frame was so narrow you could wrap your two hands around her body at her hind-quarters. Her head was shaped like a bullet. The rest of her was … More Under The Big Sky by Richard Stanford 2012-02-11
Chiaroscuro. Silvery moonlight dapples through motionless lace curtains, the only illumination in the dark, dead room. The door opens slowly, revealing a BOY, 6 years old, wide, dark eyes, fearful yet carrying on through with the opening of the door. He is alone and brave enough to enter this room with reverence, tentative, the floor … More The Postcard by Richard Stanford 2011-11-27
The Ovi 