Say Uncle
The year is 1964. It was a time when many people smoked, drugs were not often heard of, it was safe to take a walk at night in most towns, living together prior to marriage was not acceptable and most people married before having children.
Balan, sat in the lobby people watching. He was wearing a suit he felt most comfortable wearing, in his pocket was a gold pencil lighter. He was almost tall and almost handsome. It was another weekend away, another search, another resort. Now that Erika was gone Balan had been on a circuit he loathed. All he really hoped for was to find one girl with whom he might fall in love with.
Three years out of college in 1952 Balan was pounding the pavement looking for work as a writer, no one seemed to need a writer. He wrote scripts and he wrote his play Spring…