Brian Lowe

Brian Lowe is tall, and thin. His shock of red hair is visible at a distance. He is pensive, and slow to speak. I have mixed feelings about Brian. He is living and breathing all that is inked, penned, typed, anythinged, into our language. He feasts on it. He dreams of taking words to bed, and laying with the pretty ones, and tangling up with the beautiful ones, and puzzling with the complicated ones. You can hear it in his speech, but I'm not sure if I like it.

I saw him once riding a bicycle. He was standing, too big for it, but pumping away, and it looked like the thing was just along for the ride. It was winter, and his cheeks were flushed, and he looked for all the world like he knew where he was going.