A good weekend of writing is drawing to an end. A research trip to mexico is rearing its head. Time to investigate the dim world of Ensinada nights. This novel deals with sex trafficing and the conection between Russian mob and mexico. And what we do in the name of getting our rocks off.
Ah the dark shadow drift once again across my heart and I am compelled to type it into the world.
Ah the dark shadow drift once again across my heart and I am compelled to type it into the world.
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It was easy to see and hear when she wrote or read aloud
in class...
The flip side of this was that she knew the true value of
Literature, for she had suffered much for it's sake.
I don't remember many of my school teachers with any
degree of fondness: of the few I do, she holds first rank.
P.S. A girlfriend of mine realized that only now, upon
reaching the age of thirty, had she finally learn how to
read.
She had been in the university system for some time and was capable of quickly absorbing vast quantities of
information: what she learnt was that only through a
slower read could she experience the deeper beauty
of literature.
She said that she wanted to re-read all of the books
that she loved, because with her new talent, she would
now experience much of what she had missed before.
Just thought this might interest you...Bye.
The machine froze on me and repeated my rather long
winded comment.
[Edited on Sep 29, 2004 2:38AM]
[Edited on Sep 29, 2004 2:39AM]