Dream

Last early morning my dreams were prolific moving at a fast pace forcing me to pay attention.

One of my favourite writers, Carl Jung, said that certain dreams, which he called “big” dreams, feel to carry you, feel to be separate, a power apart from you, the spirit, showing aspects of existence that are unusual, something strange to temporal awareness: a dream that must be observed; experienced and pondered upon waking.

The image is a strange and bigger than life cross or something akin to the Cross; my feeling in the dream was the cross had some Gnostic symbolism, a meaning far above my intelligence or spirituality.

My friend, a fellow teacher in the waking world, had been following me throughout the dream/scene. She wanted to know where I spent my time, where I travel during those times of unawareness…why I spaced out and seemed to be far away…

We arrived at the doors of the castle. She asked me to knock, but I knew in my heart that it was not the right time to knock. Right then, looking to the sky, the Cross began its rising journey into the clouds.

Words cannot describe this scene. The Cross rose into the clouds, slowly, moving at a pace not known in our world. As it was about to disappear, the space around the Cross moved, blinking, spreading, rippling, opening to another place then, vanished.

The Cross moved to where it belonged. But it was not my time to follow it; my companion was wrong. Turning towards her she appeared disappointed…why I hadn’t left with the Cross...she was so sure.

Waking feeling disturbed.

The image of the Cross remaines.

Narcissism, Fools & Stoicism

It has been said that our modern society is much more complex than, let say, one hundred years ago. I recall as a young lad of five years of age, laying in my small cot in my grandparent’s bedroom, and waking to the sound of horse’s hooves against the paved road outside the house. This was the local milkman delivering the morning’s milk to the homes in our small suburb of Surry Hills.

The clanging crystal as he placed the bottles in the various boxes, the sound of hooves’ against the road and the voice in the dark whispering in a loud cadence:

“C’mon boy, we’re almost done… just a few more houses and it’s back home.”

Perhaps revealing too much, this was a touch more than forty five years ago. The one aspect of my memory of that time was the quietness; there were no freeways and there was only the occasional sound of the ‘red rattlers’, the passenger trains’ travelling to the city. Forty five years later, the noise pollution is relentlessly constant, the sound of rumbling traffic along the roads and freeways; planes, police helicopters and passenger jets flying overhead has become the norm in our day to day lives, and we put up with it, we’ve seemingly ‘adapted’.

This may be a sentimental illusion, a fantasy of the aged, but there appears to be more chaos and people around than ever before.

One’s line of work, of course, has much to do with the amount of contact you have with people. As a high school teacher, for example, my contact with people is part of the profession, dealing with young adults in the hundreds on a daily bases is part of the job. Interaction with fellow staff members also constitutes a large part of the day and learning to ‘get along’ is a necessary ingredient in order for production and harmony to sustain at an acceptable level for all concerned.

Dealings with people covers all aspects of life from the grocery clerk to the bank teller, the electrician to the landlord to the mother-in-law and particularly one’s spouse. We are required to all get along and we have set up tacit rules in society to ensure we can live together in relative harmony. However, when one meets someone who does not follow these tacit rules or seems to simply not care, thinking only of themselves, how do we respond?

I remember a particular person who could not and would not ever listen but would only contribute to a group conversation about himself. One afternoon after the students had all left the school and hopefully gone home, a few of us remained and began talking about the day. If you are not a teacher, this habit of talking about our day to our fellow teachers is part of our tacit job description, however, no Graduate Diploma of Education or an MA in Education can or will teach you this aspect – it is a necessary part of the job and has been for many, many years.

We began talking about a student with troubles at home and at school – we were all concerned.

Out of the blue, he walked into the room, hearing the subject of conversation and began telling us how to deal with this poor young lady. (Later I discovered he did not teach her). Seamlessly, he turned the topic of conversation towards his personal life, why he thought buying a mammoth four-wheel drive was justified and how stressed he had become about his next holiday in Greece. As professionals, we listened and nodded our heads, smiled and tried to look concerned about the petrol guzzling tank he was about to purchase. He whisked out of the room happy, it seemed, because all our attention had been on him and his life.

This behaviour leaked into his teaching, but somehow, some students went with his flow and managed to achieve the outcomes intended.

I guess it all came to a climax one day when, as his boss, I intervened on his Home Group to sort out a Year 7 cat fight. (Year 7 girls can be a handful)

Once he caught wind of this, he yelled and screamed at one of the SSO staff (Teachers Aids) while I had been in the room and stormed off, slamming the door to the teachers lounge. (In front of two Year 12 students).

Rather than talking with me about the problem with the children, he took my intervention as a personal attack on his “turf” or “self” and decided I was incompetent.

How do you deal with a person of such narcissist tendencies?

Well it only got worse as he attempted to turn the staff against me and visit the managers, telling little tales of my so-called failures. What he did not know was that the bosses were and are aware of this individual and did not believe a word he uttered, particularly about me.

Although stressed about this person, my main concern has always been the children.

It is hard enough working with under-privileged kids and lost souls, but to also deal with a self-absorbed fellow worker who, in fact, is trying to destroy you, only adds to the stress.

My response:


It was the Roman emperor, Marcus Aurelius, probably the most famous of Stoic philosophers, who wrote the following practical advice:

"Begin each day by saying to yourself, "Today I shall meet people who are interfering, ungrateful, arrogant, deceitful, envious, and selfish." They are made this way because of their ignorance of what is good and evil...but I, who have seen the nature of good and beauty, and of evil and its ugliness, know that the inner nature of the man who does evil is the same as mine, therefore I can't be harmed by any of these men, for no one can impose on me what is degrading."

In other terms, expect the worst in people, and you'll never be disappointed, and their actions will not affect you, because their nature is the same as your own.

Enough said.

An Afternoon in the Country

Only about two hours from Melbourne is a lovely small town that has been constructed along a clean babbling brook. The water is icy cold and incredibly refreshing when dunking one’s feet.

We decided that another picnic was in order to clear the cob webs and city imposed angst due to the demands on the urban dweller.

Finally arriving around noon, exploring the river’s edge, we found the perfect spot under a towering Gum tree with enough shade to lay the blanket and have lunch.

The babbling sound of the river can be mesmerising and naturally takes the mind to a restful place. But the forest canopy surrounding the brook is nothing less than magnificent, hailing images of paradise.

We shared are little spot of heaven with a large contingent of ducks. Most were sunning themselves on a rock while the younger members played by setting themselves into a rapid and riding down a section of the brook. It reminded me of a natural rollercoaster, and one could almost hear the young ducks scream for joy as they rode down the stream. This part of the game was easy, because after their ride ended somewhere down stream, the youngsters would begin their trek back up stream to do it all again. In a few instance it was hilarious to see a single duck just about make it back, only to give up and let the rapid take them down stream.

After a hearty lunch of delicious ham sandwiches, homemade brownies and fresh peaches, all the body wants to do is sleep. My friend read her novel to me for a little while before falling into a comfortable slumber.

To wake up to this natural and beautiful environment does wonders for the soul. My mind felt clear and sharp. As the day turned to late afternoon the time came to pack up and return to civilization.

These small excursions out of the city has a re-energising affect, making one prepared for the rush and superficiality of modern life.

Highly recommended.

THE LIST (A Short Story)

The day began like all the rest.

A list made the night before, too long for the most ambitious person to accomplish, as usual, over these last several months my life has spiralled out of my control; my eyes open and the clock reads several hours beyond the intended hour to awake – slept in again.

Checking the mobile, there are three unanswered voice mail messages and one text.

The text message is the one that makes me cringe and want to roll over and fall back to sleep. Pushing the button, the text appears and because my glasses are no-where in sight, I read it as,

Why do you sleep when it is necessary to rise and meet the world? We’re over…and please don’t call me for at least a week. You disappoint me so…
Love, C.

Holding the phone at arms length does not make the characters clear to the eye.

Thinking I need to wake up, forgetting the blurred message, make a coffee and settle into writing my list, which reads as follows:


1. Wake up early.
2. Drink coffee.
3. Examine list.
4. Tie-up all financial obligations/write note to Chloe
5. Shower, dress in best suit, and wear best cologne.
6. Stand on railway tracks and…preferably Box Hill Station.
7. Must be peak time, and as train moves into the station, fall gracefully below the wheels/ kill yourself.

The time came to cross off number four on my latest list. My financial obligations have always been in order: bills paid on time and a hearty savings account. Thus task took little time. Good. Now, to the note.

Dear Chloe,
You know I’ve loved you for years and I cannot stand you mad, or more particularly, ‘disappointed’ in me. I know we’ve had our troubles, but your last text message put me over the edge. I can’t deal with disappointing you anymore! Please try to understand that without you life is not worth living. So I’m going to end it tomorrow…so by the time you read this I’ll be gone forever. Always remember that I LOVED you! And I will never disappoint you again.
So long,
J. xxx
P.S.

Have transferred all my accounts to your name. It is a grand sum and I want you to enjoy it…take a holiday to Europe…whatever. XXX

Ok. Making good progress on this list. The letter has been mailed and with certainty can put a line through the task.

Making lists has always been my passion or as Chloe constantly reminds me, my “obsession”. This could be partly true but making lists is a practical activity ensuring everything in one’s life gets done. Added to this is the feeling of deep satisfaction when a single task is done and you can put a thick line through it. For me, really, the feeling I get from this simple action is better than sex. Maybe this is why my relationship with Chloe has fallen apart…who knows, but lists keeps one organized and I desperately need to be organized.


The time in the shower was longer than usual but I can afford this little transgression. In fact # 5 on my list should be enjoyable. I shouldn’t rush through the task to just experience the visceral satisfaction of putting a line through it…save it, make it last.

Dressing in my best Armani Suit, a dark blue $3000 garment, on special the day I purchased it, down from $5000; what a bargain. As I remember, finding a bargain on a suit was on that particular list as “Top Priority” and putting a line through the completed task almost sent me into spasms of frenetic joy; yes that was a great list accomplished to my complete satisfaction.

My $200 bottle of Hugo Boss cologne, applied to my face evenly, of course, would complete #5. Excellent, now to put the thick line through it…ah, that felt divine!

The day is overcast, and fitting for the final task on the list. Though really, come to think of it, the sky should be pouring down with rain, thus the affect greater on my fellow travellers.

Finally reaching my destination, the number 2 platform on Box Hill station. Excellent, I can put a thick line through # 6. Whoa, now that was terribly good!

It is crowded today, I suppose because the children are back at school. Looking down the platform, a sea of private school uniforms in a multitude of colours and patterns, crowded together on the platform awaiting the arrival of the train, my train.

Suddenly a terrible thought comes to mind: how will I put a line through the final task on my list… if I’m dead? Then the solution comes to me, as my body falls under the wheels, I’ll quickly and adeptly scratch the line through the task, a nana second before the final, crushing moment. Ok. Very good, J, a marvellous plan!

I can hear the train approaching.

Oh outstanding, it is not slowing down, because it must be an express train, shooting through the station at top speed. This is pure, unmitigated luck! I’ll put my pencil at the start of the line of # 7 on my list, just in case...

Here it comes…ready…ready…JUMP!

The well-dressed man falling in front of the speeding train caused the morning commuters to move into a minor frenzy. Although an express train, the driver applied his brakes, creating a high pitched scraping sound, finally bringing the steel beast to a complete stop. Unfortunately for the morning commuters, as this was a blatant suicide, a death of a human being, it was The Transit Authority’s policy to hold all trains for the entire morning shift. Therefore a local bus service is called to provide transport for all their passengers.

Coincidentally, at the same time Chloe is reading J’s suicide note, there is a knock on the door. Two uniformed police officers, trained to deliver terrible news, walked into Chloe’s small apartment. She shows the officers the suicide note. One of them hands J’s mobile phone to her that was recovered from the scene, and she opens the ‘inbox’.

“Oh my god, he didn’t have his glasses on when he read my last text message. I can’t believe it. This was all caused by some miss-read message.

The text actually read:

Don’t sleep in and miss the world. We’re over at the Green Pepper Café. Call me next week if you can’t make because I’ll be gone at my Grandmothers. Don’t disappoint me. C.

When J. thought it read:

Why do you sleep when it is necessary to rise and meet the world? We’re over…and please don’t call me for at least a week. You disappoint me so…C.

After the police officers left the apartment, Chloe sunk into a chair and began to go into shock. Then her mind began racing… “What will I do, J. had nobody but me. I’ll have to make all the arrangements, there’s the Funeral Director, the funeral and all the invitations…how will I manage it all…
Then it dawned on her:

“I know…I’ll make a list.”

Ends.

Dr. Albert Schweitzer – the Humanitarian’s Humanitarian a Personal Tribute

When one considers the history of the twentieth century, many personages, events, movements and predominantly, war, two world wars, springs to mind. All to often, as a history teacher, the curriculum dictates that we teach about the causes and terrible events and crimes in these two wars; the millions of young lads killed in the first world war and the insane acts of genocide, the holocaust, and the unnecessary Atomic bombing on two cities in Japan, thus ending the second world war. As a history teacher, communicating these terrible events year after year, becomes tedious if not bordering on the unnecessary. Why not teach about the advances in technology that has made our lives so much easier or about important people who made a difference, giving us something to strive for in our day to day lives. To my mind, Albert Schweitzer is one such individual.

Born in Germany in 1875, his childhood was relatively normal, however it became evident early on that he was a deeply religious personality. In line with this sensibility, Schweitzer was a terribly sensitive adolescent. Born into a middle class family, and the values and mores that come with this class, he was expected to keep himself clean and dress accordingly. He attended a public school and, of course, there were students who came from poor families and therefore could not afford new clothing. Young Schweitzer being all too aware of this, would dress in his old cloths under his new ones, and change before arriving to class. His reason was he didn’t want to incite any form of jealousy in his fellow pupils. This act was not to save himself from ridicule but save the feelings of his less fortunate classmates.

In his twenties, Schweitzer studied philosophy and theology, earning a PhD in philosophy. He was also a master of the church organ, a musician of some renown, and eventually becoming an international expert on Bach. In fact, to pay school fees and basically live, he would play the organ for public and private audiences to make ends meet.

Schweitzer became aware of his mission to serve his fellow travellers on this planet somewhat late in life. An established philosopher and theologian at age thirty, a principal of a respected seminary, he awoke one morning to realize everything life had given him, and it was time to give back. After reading an article calling for trained medical staff to work in West Africa, he knew what he needed to do. Against heavy opposition from family and friends, he returned to university as a mature-aged student to study medicine, attaining his degree.

What is most striking about this man was his incredible capacity for work. He held Doctorates in three major subjects - theology, philosophy and medicine and was an accomplished organist and world expert on Bach. Schweitzer's published works in theology, philosophy and music remain in circulation, which continue to shed light in these areas. His "Reverence for Life" philosophy on the surface, appears almost too simplistic, but on closer examination, is a worldview that encompasses an attitude of mind, that if practiced, could radically change the world for the better. Schweitzer was not a philosopher of the abstract variety, at home in an ivory tower creating complex theories that only a select few would understand. As the man said and wrote many times, "he lived his argument" and his accomplishments certainly prove this.

In 1913, Albert and his wife Helen landed in West Africa and established the first hospital, Andende. When they first arrived in the stifling heat and humidity of the jungle, finally reaching their destination only to find a broken down tin shack left by missionaries years before. Most would turn back, thinking this mission is all too hard, but the Schweitzer’s forged ahead, eventually building Lambarene, as it is still called today.

If you are truly interested in this great mind, read his short autobiography Out of My Life and Thought. One should not expect too much detail, however, as the text only gives us glimpses into the man's life and the singular events that shaped who he was and what he became and, more importantly, what he accomplished. Schweitzer focuses mainly on the development of his theological and philosophical thought, beginning with his early endeavours leading to his famous work, `The Quest for the Historical Jesus'. From this point, he continues on towards the shaping of his magnum opus, `Philosophy of Civilization'. It is in this section of the text that he discusses two worldviews of life-affirmation and life-denial and pessimism. This work evolves into his philosophical perspective of Reverence for Life.

The biography ends in the year 1931, well before the advent of the Second World War. Schweitzer was only fifty-six years of age when he penned this work, well before receiving the Nobel Peace Prize, living and working for another forty-four years. Curiously, when his publisher requested that he write an autobiography, he was hesitant, as he was more or less still in his prime. However, as he wrote to his publisher fourteen years later on his seventieth birthday, memory fades with age, and he believed that writing about himself at that stage of his life, he could put down those important memories that remained fresh in his mind.

Schweitzer is certainly an inspiration - a man of immense strength, physically, emotionally and spiritually, with an almost endless capacity for work. The man worked in the most difficult of circumstances. Practicing medicine in intense tropical heat, day after day, disease run rampant; constant worry over funds to purchase much needed medical supplies. Moreover, the terrible events of two world wars - the odds he worked against to maintain the Lambarene Hospital, to my mind, is simply unimaginable. But the man persisted, rising every morning to meet disease, suffering, violence, death and loneliness.

Dr. Schweitzer received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1953.

During this time, a serious antagonism erupted between the United States government and the old doctor, as Schweitzer and other activists, such as Albert Einstein and philosopher, Bertrand Russell, exposed to the public at large the fall-out hazards of the hydrogen bomb testing that the government wanted to keep secret, as the Cold War was then in full swing.

After sixty years of devotional service and hard work, Dr. Albert Schweitzer died in 1965 at the age of ninety. As was his wish, he was buried at his beloved hospital, Lambarene along with his wife, Helen.

There has been so much superficial talk these days in the media and from our “game show host” politicians that we are not teaching our young the important values in order for them to grow into valuable and contributing members of society. To be sure, if there was ever an individual in recent history that would be a ‘model’ for our young to follow, it would be Dr. Albert Schweitzer.

In my last web log entry, I posted a quote from the great man that really encompasses his views on life and the way he lived it. It is worth posting again:

You must give some time to your fellow men. Even if it's a little thing, do something for others - something for which you get no pay but the privilege of doing it.

Albert Schweitzer

A Day at the Beach

A somewhat unusual day… to be fair and honest, the last eight months has been somewhat strange.

Rather than plunge into the many drastic changes in my life over the latter part of 2006, my focus should be today, and this day was absolutely wonderful.

Beautiful food, a chilled red wine and a beach covered with sun worshipping laid-back Australians, and all felt to be relaxed.

The beach was somewhere down the coast from Melbourne, a lovely little cove with a rusted old tanker positioned about a kilometre from the shore. To our left, a majestic cliff formation, a craggy work of natural art, I thought, as we put together our small tent, laying out a blanket and changing into our bathers.

It has been twelve years since stepping foot in the Pacific Ocean, and let me say, the water was a little cold, but the body adapts and cools down, turning the mind back to a semblance of normality.

As stated too often to mention again, the hot weather turns me into a grump at least, and at most, a cartoon rendition of Hannibal Lector. The ocean acted as a good tranquilizer, the slow and constant tide moving over my body towards the shore.

My friend packs a picnic lunch like no other: chilled prawns, ham and chicken slices on whole meal or sour dough bread. Fresh fruit – strawberries, blood red grapes, melon and rich cheese: bottled almost frozen water or orange juice, and an Italian soft drink that tasted divine. The chilled wine captured the essence of the gastronomic experience because a good wine contributes and adds to the taste of all superb meals. After our late lunch, she laughing at most of my lame jokes, (she really likes my jokes) we settled in and napped for thirty minutes…well, really, fifteen minutes tops.

Arriving just after three in the afternoon, my eyes and temporal anchors, after the little nap, could not adjust to actual time; as dusk and dawn are similar, waking to not know whether it’s morning or evening. “That’s it!” I thought. Rising and running into the ocean like a mad man possessed. After submerging in the cold water and re-emerging into the light of day, my time protocols were back in place.

My friend continued to sleep and suddenly lifted her head to say, “I’m glad you’re here, I would not want to be anywhere else in the world without this man that sits right here!”
As the sun disappeared behind the sea, my fellow beach humans’ stood, packing-up and casually began to saunter away.

And so did us…

Amongst the crowd on the beach with my gentle friend: good food and wine, a beautiful horizon and sunset that felt to burn the sky, life, despite my so-called problems, felt to be a gift, something to be mindful of every second, because life is fleeting and ends in the flicker of an eye…

A Spit in the Wind...

“Can you talk?”

Her sensual laugh, soft and alluring, enters his ear through a mobile phone, excited daringly sinful and disturbed that this once potential lover has the courage to remain on the phone.

“Where are you?”

She laughs again. “I’m in the back yard watering the plants away from the crowd inside the house.” Her tone changes. “And if you ever call again I’ll kill you.”

Thoughts of their encounter the night before refuse to remove themselves from her memory, the images, everything fills her fragile soul. She cannot steel her heart from this gorgeous, drunken and sadistic man.

Considering the time and place, the two new lovers’ managed to meet in secret, a rendezvous at a well known train station in Melbourne. As the train grinded to a stop, she did not see him at first, though turned her head around as he began to run in her direction at the end of the platform, calling her name above the chaos of a typical Friday night.

She turned her head and seeing him revealed her soul to him, softness in character, a beautiful smile and a tinge of fear.

She looked absolutely magnificent. Feeling like a young man, he kissed her as the grinding train left the station, the young people looking their way. The kiss, as all lovers know, tells all, and only time will resolve the immensity of their current feelings.

“You actually are here!”

“Did you ever doubt me?” she whispers.

Feeling slightly drunk, due to the few wines he sipped before her arrival, he lands in the Moment, total present time, and wonders why he has been so blessed.

She laughs again and kisses him on the lips, and asks, “Where are we going?”

Like all men who are truly loved, out of his ego or lack of confidence, he acts in bravado, a man; a little boy really, announces that a luxurious room is awaiting and a dinner that will be remembered for many lifetimes.

What this has-been adolescent has missed, is that the woman he now holds, is a lady of experience and taste. She understands the young, the naïve, the inexperienced in love. But somehow this particular middle-aged man, his strange ideas about life, his past and his strange demeanour, is a mystery, something to be explored. She decides to go along with his romantic overtures, his poetic view of love and life; a man from a distant past or some deranged character from a bad novel. She finds him curious and this experience will prove or disprove her expectations about him. Thus she cautiously follows.


Only two minutes from the station, they enter the pub/hotel, full of the regular Friday night crowd, expressing their frustrations about a meaningless existence. The pub is loud, happy and has an atmosphere of the unexpected.

They enter the room and she is delightfully surprised. High ceilings, 19th century décor and a comfortable bed; following his lead, he shows her to the spa, something she, as a woman of class, would never do. What impresses her is that he made the effort to create “ambience”, candles and low lamps light the room in a soft glow.

He offers her a glass of wine for the mini-bar that tastes like sour apples, the poor grapes having spent their short lives in the hot sun.

Her expression tells all, and they kiss, continue to kiss passionately, until she pushes the ‘boy’ away stating that dinner would be a good idea.

Through dinner their conversation turns from the ideal to the absurd. She asks him about Mozart, Shubert and Brahms; he looks confused and changes the subject to his “mates’ at work, abusing the new apprentice on the job. He laughs embarrassingly loud, telling the cruel antics’ played upon the young apprentice.

She realizes that this was not the man she thought she knew…

He becomes belligerent, his new love, a sideline to his pseudo-masculine bravado, shouting, abusing the waiters’, demanding service, complaining about the wine, as if his new lover, sitting across from him, might be impressed with his adolescent and cruel antics.

‘He’s changed’. she thought. He has transformed into a stereotypical vulgar male, the type of person she has had to put up with all her life; a bully, thug and a man who has never grown, matured, stopped, mentally, somewhere in adolescence. She feels a stab of fear as he stands up and demands that they go back to the room.

He stumbles to the register to pay the bill. Their waiter and the manager of the hotel spot the drunken lout, and make a note.

He literally drags the lady to their room, stumbling with the lock as his eyesight has permanently blurred for the night.

He grabs, pushing, slapping and demands she do his will or “You can get fucked whore!”

Under the circumstances, as had happed too many times before, it was best forgotten, she relents, and the deed is over in a matter of moments. He turns away, instantly snoring, asleep for the remainder of the night.


As the light from the dawn enters the small window of their hotel room, she carefully leaves the bed, finally after a few minutes, finding her shoes. She did not want to wake him, perhaps beginning the whole terrible scenario again.

It had happed too many times before…

Grabbing her bag, she opens the door like a thief in the night, leaving the drunken rapist to his convoluted dreams.

Would my life ever change? Is it possible to free my self from these self-obsessed men, whose existence is so shallow, a mere spit in the wind?

And why am I so different?

Haggard, tired and feeling sorry for herself, she waits for the train back to the suburbs, back to her normal life.

Only a few stations from her stop, she dials a familiar number and her reliable daughter picks her up from the station.

“How was your night, Mum?”

“A great night with the girls…we had a good time.”

The woman winces at the memory of the experience, her daughter oblivious to her plight.

As she enters the front door, that incredible emptiness about her long marriage stings like sunburn. Her husband greets her with his usual probing questions like she is a suspected terrorist from a third world country: he is another bully in a long line of bullies.

She has all her bases covered and he seems to be satisfied.

Life continues as usual, ignoring the real issues and carrying on as though nothing has changed.

A good friend rings, and she finally breaks down, sobbing into the phone.


Ends.