[Non-fiction]

It was Santa Monica in summer, 1997. Jim Sheldon taught me to play scopa over a series of alcohol-fuelled evenings. The alcohol fuelled me – Jim drank coke. 

He didn’t need to drink; teaching me this game was his high. His eyes sparkled over the cards. His voice assumed an authoritative, zesty tone, encouraging and challenging me at the same time. 

I dug in deep, but I couldn’t beat him.

Continue reading “Jim Sheldon – No Dark No Light” →