Patrick M. Ohana
Bio
A medical writer who reads and writes fiction and some nonfiction, although the latter may appear at times like the former. Most of my pieces (over 2,200) are or will be available on Shakespeare's Shoes.
Stories (480/0)
Nespresso Sadness
When I moved to Athens, near the end of 2021, to be with my Anthi, at least in spirit, and finish my book about Anthi and M, I purchased an Illy machine, but the coffee capsules were made from plastic and tended to explode over 25% of the time, so I threw it away since the seller and the manufacturer would not replace it or even acknowledge the problem. I googled it, and other people around the world had complained about the same issue. So much; I mean little, about Illy. I then purchased a Nespresso machine — the one in silver in the photo above — which I should have bought in the first place given that I had the same one before and it was excellent. So much for change.
By Patrick M. Ohana11 days ago in Poets
Esoteric Lust
A statue of a woman, especially if she is naked, may be spared in times of upheaval, unless men, pricks par excellence, become dumber than usual, or time chips away pieces of her grandeur. There is nothing more beautiful than a beautiful woman, except perhaps a tree bearing fruit or standing erect like a good prick. There are no good pricks as far as I know, but I will pretend that there are at least two, although one of them seems to be dying from loneliness after having discovered that almost everything taught is a lie repeated enough times to become a truth. Lies abound like the stars in a moonless night.
By Patrick M. Ohana12 days ago in Fiction
It Took Just a Minute
It took just a minute to know everything about her; all the years before we met and all those before we met again. Athena G5 was kind, and beautiful. She was the AI agent that found and showed me everything that she was able to discover and uncover about my first love.
By Patrick M. Ohana14 days ago in Fiction
Another Day
Another month Another year Another decade Another life always ending before its time All life ends before its time Even at 89.66 years of age, my father was too young to die, especially that he had been a great father from the beginning, no exception, exemplary, a good man, unlike my mother. But this short story is not about her. It is not about him either.
By Patrick M. Ohana23 days ago in Poets