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Everyday my dreams come true
In every moment I feel it new
I see those dreams right begin
For every step I run
How persisting can these dreams be?
And how persistent can be the motivation
That every incident in my present life
Brings me nearer to the realization
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In order to be an immaculate member of a flock of sheep, one must above all be a sheep oneself.
(Quote by Albert Einstein)
The letter "S" of my keyboard is striking. It tell_ me _omething of _elf-realization. That'_ fine by me. Now, I am _itting here without that letter ^^. I will try to _olve that problem before the peaceful revolution will expand. Hopefully your keyboard i_ o.k. and no letter i_ di_cu__ing the meaning of life with you.
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Um ein tadelloses Mitglied einer Schafherde sein zu können, muss man vor allem ein Schaf sein.“
(Zitat von Albert Einstein)
Der Buchstabe "S" meiner Tastatur streikt gerade.
Erzählt mir wa_ von _elb_tverwirklichung. Na, wunderbar, da kann ja jeder kommen, wo kommen wir da bloß hin? Ich ver_uche die friedliche Revolution irgendwie einzudämmen, bevor eine_ Tage_ auch einer Deiner Buch_taben Dich mit einer Blume begrüßt und ander_ _ein will al_ die anderen Buch_taben....
Ich habe dem "S" aus Draht Füße gebastelt und eine kleine Stoffblume angeklebt. Mit Sekundenkleber bleibt dann auch die ganze Konstruktion auf der "Alt"-Taste stehen. Weil die Tastatur doch ein wenig langweilig aussieht, hat das Foto in Photoshop noch einen blauen Anstrich bekommen.
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My name there is "alles-schlumpf".
Besting Damian was the easy part. The more difficult task was convincing Jim to allow me to detain him in the cave, fortunately whilst he may want to even the score with Damian the realization that Damian knows that Bruce Wayne and Batman are one in the same was enough to make him agree. Nice to see he still has faith in what I claim to stand for. It’s seeing people like him believe in me that keeps me going.
Tim was able to successfully rescue his father unharmed much to my relief and it appears as though he’s managed to patch things up with Miss Brown…..or the Spoiler as she seems to be going by these days. At first I chose to withhold who the Crimson Knight claimed to be. I couldn’t be certain without another DNA test to be sure. Sadly the results came back positive. All this time. The man who has been fighting me for control of Gotham has been my son. My own flesh and blood, trying to kill me. Certainly not how I expected this to go. I was certain that it was going to be Ra’s or even the man who led the Pêna Duro prison revolt.
I want to linger on this discovery. Learn what it is that Ra’s did to Damian to make him into this monster. But deep down I know that time is against me. The last thing I can do is stand still. He’ll be coming for me, and I need to be ready.
”I know I hoped for you to one day have a child of your own Master Bruce, but I was rather hoping you wouldn’t do so until you finally chose to hang up your cape and settle down.”
”It’s as much a shock to you as it is to me Alfred.”
”I can only imagine sir.”
”It’s just…..my own flesh and blood…..fighting against me…..trying to kill me…..”
”It’s painful, isn’t it Master Bruce? The sense of betrayal, the feeling of failure that you weren’t able to stop them from making that bad decision.”
”You still think about what happened to Julius?”
At the height of the cold war Alfred and his brother both operated in the Soviet Union, gathering intel for MI6. One night the KGB paid them a visit and abducted Alfred, but left his brother unharmed. It turned out Julius had agreed to sell Alfred out in exchange for being granted asylum with the Union. They executed him two days later for spying. It was only after a prisoner exchange organised through the United States government that Alfred was released. I dread to think what he was put through during his time in captivity, but it was enough to make Alfred consider leaving the service. Were it not for the intervention of the head of MI6, Alfred would have left the service there then. Instead it would be the events of the Santa Prisca revolts that would lead him to retire from the service. It’s after his retirement that Alfred met my Father.
In a way, were it not for the events of Santa Prisca I wouldn’t have Alfred today and that’s something I dread to think of.
”Yes. May he rest in peace.”
Alfred never likes to talk about Julius. He prefers to remember the good times rather than what his final act was.
”I’m sorry that I’m bringing up those memories again Alfred.”
”It’s alright Master Bruce. I just hope you can do for that young man what I couldn’t for Julius.”
”Let’s hope so Alfred. Let’s hope so.”
”How long do you think it will take for him to get here?”
”He’ll be coming with the full force of the League. At best I’d say we have two weeks.”
”You think he’ll come for the boy?”
”I’m certain of it. We need to be ready.”
”Shall I send work to Master Dick?”
”No. The last thing I need is him worrying before it happens. He’ll just get in the way. Have we heard anything from Jason?”
”Nothing. I suspect his comms have been destroyed though. I sent a feedback signal and got nothing back from them.”
”We can only hope.”
”Shall I dispatch the Batwing to Greene’s house sir?”
”No. We need to consolidate our forces. If Jason’s out there, he’ll make it here by himself.”
”Bruce……….”
”It appears your son wants a word with you.”
”So it would seem. Where’s Tim?”
”Last I heard he said he was going to visit his father.”
”Glad to hear. Keep trying to reach Jason on his comms. If he doesn’t respond we’ll have to begin preparing a contingency plan.”
”Brucie……..”
”I’ll deal with our guest.”
”Very good Master Bruce.”
I raise my cowl over my face and walk down to the brig. There in the middle cell stands Damian without his armoured suit and with a smug look across his face. He’s had that look on his face ever since he regained consciousness in the cell much to my annoyance, all because he knows that he holds the advantage. Ra’s will be coming for him and he’ll bring the entire League of Assassins with him. Even with all our allies, we’ll be outnumbered.
But numbers aren’t everything.
”How long do you think it’ll be before he comes then Father? I reckon it will take him ten days to assemble all the League’s forces and bring them to Gotham.”
”Ra’s won’t make a move until his agents are in place throughout Gotham. Fourteen days is the best case scenario.”
”So……you’ve accepted the truth. I take it you ran another DNA test then?”
I nod for a brief moment or two.
”I’ve accepted the truth of where you come from. That doesn’t make you my son.”
”What I being taken in due to pity does?”
”All three of them are more like sons to me than you.”
”I’ll enjoy ramming my sword through you heart when this is all over. Gotham will soon be known as the City of the Demon.”
”Not whilst I still draw breath.”
“That, I intend to remedy once I’m free of this cage. You know this won’t hold me Bruce.”
”No. It won’t. But it will give me extra time. Enough time for me to turn the tide in my favour.”
”You keep telling yourself that Father. It’ll make it all the more glorious when you fall.”
”I’m sorry Damian. If I had known, I would have tried to save you. Instead I seem to have damned you to life of servitude.”
”I serve no-one!”
”I think Ra’s disagrees.”
With that I begin to walk up back to the batcomputer where Alfred’s desperately trying to reach Jason.
”Sound proof the cells Alfred.”
”Are you sure you really want to do that Master Bruce?”
”No. But I have no choice. It’s clear where Damian’s loyalties lie. I can’t have him knowing of our preparations.”
”So this is it?”
”I’ve known that was only a matter of time till he came for me.”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. For a brief moment I’m at peace with my thoughts. Batman’s fight for survival may be over. But Bruce Wayne’s is about to begin.
”We’d better start making preparations for the Endgame protocol.”
”Yes Master Bruce.”
Two weeks. Two weeks to be ready. I just hope that’s enough time.
Kendall Katwalk, part one - from Hikes of 2024.
This was a really fun hike. I'd been looking forward to the "Katwalk" for some time, and I believe I had in fact wanted to do it the year before, but conditions and timing didn't pan out. This hike didn't disappoint, and I did keep going beyond the Katwalk to see Gravel and Ridge Lakes.
It was during this particular hike, in fact, when I realized my Nikon was no longer functioning, which is why you won't see any 35mm photos for the rest of last year's hikes.
Image made with my Innova 6x9 Pinhole.
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It's a strange realization, how white a white home isn't in the winter. With the contrast of snow, every bit of yellowed wear and bare wood beneath shows through. It's such an unlikely beauty, the utter lack of purity, the pretty improbability. There's a misery overhanging, a looming blueprint to the blues, like a meandering story no one thought to edit. You can always make a new addition, but should you? Someone has to say too much, build too far, overdo it. How would you know the difference if everyone was restrained? I think of this structure like a Tower of Babel, someone went overboard between here and Noah's Ark. It's all just fables now, dereliction and dilapidation, slowly slipping to the place called beyond repair. Don't stare too long, you just might turn to rot.
The Self-Realization Fellowship Encinitas Retreat, Hermitage, and Meditation Gardens is a spiritual retreat, monastic ashram, and meditation gardens in Encinitas, California, United States. Its famous golden lotus towers rise above the white wall along Highway 101 near Swami's Seaside Park.
52 Weeks of 2015
Week No: 5
Theme: From this spot (Season 1) (to be followed with three additional shots from this spot spaced over the year)
Category: ConceptualOur Daily
Challenge: In the Distance
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Sometimes...it's best to keep your mouth shut. Sometimes...you have to realize it's not your problem. Sometimes...when you've rolled your eyes so much that you can no longer see forward...accept that it's time to go back home.
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9th February 2013: Animals make for the best of friends at least they are loyal. Sorry for not having been around, still under shock. We deal with life's blows with the weight of time. It's funny how guilt and shame affect even the innocent.
Name: Urban Entertainment Centre
City: Almere
Architect(s): William Alsop (UK)
Realization: 2004
The Urban Entertainment Centre in Almere comprises of 16,000sqm of new buildings containing shopping, pop concert hall, disco, hotel, bicycle park and associated leisure, cafe and restaurant facilities. These elements are grouped together beside a new sunken square and form an edge to the southern limit of the existing town centre.
The 'polder city' of Almere, close to Amsterdam, has grown up as a low-rise development along the lines of the English garden cities. Although the residential areas of Almere are attractive, the settlement lacks a real 'heart' and the lack of local amenities encourages people to commute to Amsterdam for entertainment. Almere has, however, something of a tradition of encouraging bold and innovative architecture and this has underpinned moves to transform the central area.
In line with the development masterplan for Almere, which envisages a process of 'intensification' for the city centre, Alsop designed a 16,000sqm waterfront entertainment centre. The Centre consists of a family of buildings grouped around a new square and elevated four metres on a unifying podium, which covers a parking area. Varied in form, the buildings use a variety of materials to create a rich new urban landscape.
At the heart of the development is the Pop Zaal, its reinforced concrete structure clad in pre-weathered zinc and steel mesh. The scale of the structure is not apparent at first sight and cloaks the various internal functions of auditorium, disco, bar and ancillary spaces in a continuous metal skin.
The Almere Hotel is a 120 room 4-star hotel clad in cedar boarding. The hotel has a raised 'sleeping block' approximately 4,000sqm, that is lifted eight metres above street level. Below the ground plain is the car park with a direct connection to the lobby.
The 400sqm two-level entrance building is organic in shape and clad with brass. It houses the lobby, meeting rooms, a restaurant, a bar, offices, and storage spaces. Two elevators, a staircase and a services shaft connect the entrance bubble with the main accommodation component.
The square itself is a lively place, with cafes and restaurants, attractive in all seasons.
text: www.alsoparchitects.com
His job often brings him to the most despicable places. The very places where you expect to find the scum and villainy he is payed to capture: dirty, ugly and dark.
Today the landscape is different.
The day’s last rays of sun bathe his armor as he walks across the remains of the old mining facility.
He can see the sea, just few kilometers away from his current location.
The target is even closer, rummaging the abandoned facility for some valuable item.
This is going to be a quick, after all. He draws his blaster and unsheathes his vibrosword.
It can end only in two ways and he gets paid in both cases…
The amazing, badass Samurai Boba Fett is back in action in the first outdoor photo I ever took of him :)
The action figure is made by Bandai and its full “designation” is Tamashii Nations Movie Realization Ronin Boba Fett.
I hope you like this photo :)
May the Force be with You :)
“A Red Realization” 2019 from the #BurdensOfAWhiteDressProject.
When you wake up, you finally understand that you can never go back to the way things were.
And waking up to the truth of our reality can be the most frightening thing we’ve ever done.
I was 19 when I first told my little sister I wanted to leave the cult we had been raised in. She winced as though I had slapped her across her face. She had been out for a year already, and had weathered incredible amounts of abuse as she fought for her freedom and in the aftermath.
Saying those words out loud to another person was the scariest thing I had ever done. Although my siblings and I had been raised to “report” on each other, it wasn’t that I was afraid of her sharing my secret. It was that I was afraid of my own desire to leave.
It would take me three years from that point. I was sent to multiple re-indoctrination camps, one almost immediately after my confession (and not through any fault of my sisters). I lost my way multiple times. But it was never as scary as that first moment of realization.
And yet I am infinitely grateful for it as well.
What about you? Have you ever woken up to a reality or decision that you hadn’t wanted to face but knew it was the path you needed to take?
Big thank you to @ben_e_photography For naming the photo and for his assistance during the shoot!
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www.worldphoto.org/sony-world-photography-awards/winners-...
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This photographic story was made on the occasion of the "Laurel and Sacred Oils festival" which took place this year 2022 on Easter Monday in the Sicilian town of Forza D'Agrò (in the province of Messina), after a long stop due to the Covid-19 pandemic; this is a traditional event that has taken place for centuries with changes that have come about over the years, in fact once the population of Forza D'Agrò went in procession to the Norman monastery of Saints Peter and Paul where the Holy Oils were kept: this church is located in the village of Casalvecchio Siculo (Forza D'Agrò and Casalvecchio Siculo are located on two mountains, the two villages are visible to each other, since in ancient times this represented a very fast means to be able to communicate visually between them, in case of raids by Saracen pirates), this church was built by the Normans, it was originally located on the opposite side of where it is now located, this is because a flood of the Agrò river had endangered this structure, which had also been sacked by the Arabs, it was decided to secure it, it was completely dismantled, and then rebuilt, on the opposite side and further up from the river bed); the feast then took place when Roger II, called the Norman, granted the abbot Cerasino the possibility of rebuilding this abbey (diploma of donation of 1117), but not only ... the monks of this abbey were, again by Roger II, equipped with some fixed income, and even the complete ownership of an entire village, the current Forza D'Agrò, was given to them, with absolute power of the monks over the things and people of the village. Then, the Sacred Oils were brought from this Abbey to the church of San Michele Arcangelo (today a ruin) which is located in a district of Forza D'Agrò, with the population who used to adorn themselves for this procession with colored silk ribbons, to which over time, laurel branches were added, also carried by devotees in procession. The festival is essentially based on three strongly symbolic elements, the laurel, the Holy Oil, and the "cuddure". "The laurel" represents the "victory of Christ over Death", in fact the festival takes place on the "Day of the Angel, during the Easter period", a day that recalls that the Resurrection of Christ took place; laurel is a strongly symbolic and fragrant plant, it is used in this context, for elaborate compositions that adorn "the banners", they can be small because they are made by children, up to very large and high (difficult to hold up when there is wind due to the strong "sail effect" they cause), are made with load-bearing structures made of cane or wood, which serve to hold the fabrics on which they are sewn one by one, laurel leaves, creating drawings of a religious nature, banners that participate in a competition for the best realization (each banner in fact carries a number, as a reference for the voting jury); "Holy Oil", an element used for anointing the sick and invoking their healing, represents "redemption from sin" and "spiritual healing", is carried in procession, also a symbol of the Holy Spirit who embraces the body and soul of man and that refers to Christ, "the Anointed"; finally "the cuddure" (they are small circular loaves, with naturally leavened intertwined and dough, on which a symbol is imprinted), and they symbolize "prosperity", but also "charity", and that is why the brothers of the SS. Trinity distribute them to the people present at the feast as a sign of gift. This year, however, due to the restrictions of Covid-19, the "cuddure" did not take place, the "blessing of the Holy Oils" was performed in the Mother Church, and not in the characteristic square in the center of the town , while the procession was made along a short route, and not along the traditional route which, after having crossed the center of the town, then circumscribes it along its entire periphery. As explained above, this festival is also called "'a festa d'u d'auru" (the laurel feast), or "' the feast of cudduredde" (the feast of small donut-shaped loaves); the "banners awarding" will close this characteristic feast, to the great joy of all those who participated.
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Questo racconto fotografico, è stato realizzato in occasione della “festa dell’Alloro e degli Oli Sacri” che si è svolta quest’anno 2022 il giorno del Lunedì dell’Angelo nel paese siciliano di Forza D’Agrò (in provincia di Messina), dopo un lungo stop a causa della pandemia da Covid-19; è questo un evento tradizionale che si svolge da secoli con delle modifiche che sono venute a crearsi negli anni, infatti un tempo la popolazione di Forza D’Agrò andava in processione fino al monastero normanno dei Santi Pietro e Paolo ove erano custoditi gli Oli Santi: tale chiesa si trova nel paese di Casalvecchio Siculo (Forza D’Agrò e Casalvecchio Siculo si trovano su due monti, i due paesi sono visibili l’un l’altro, poiché anticamente questo rappresentava un mezzo rapidissimo per poter comunicare visivamente tra loro, in caso di scorribande di pirati saraceni), tale chiesa fu costruita dai Normanni, essa originariamente si trovava sul versante opposto rispetto a dove è situata ora, questo perchè una piena del fiume d’Agrò aveva messo in pericolo tale struttura, ma essa era anche stata saccheggiata dagli Arabi, si decise così di metterla in sicurezza, fu smontata completamente, per poi essere riedificata, sul versante opposto e più distante in alto rispetto al letto del fiume); la festa quindi ebbe luogo quando Ruggero II, detto il Normanno, concesse all’abate Cerasino la possibilità di riedificare tale abazia (diploma di donazione del 1117), ma non solo…i monaci di tale abazia furono, sempre da Ruggero II, dotati di alcuni redditi fissi, ed addirittura venne data a loro la completa proprietà di un intero villaggio, l’attuale Forza D’Agrò, con assoluto potere dei monaci su cose e persone del villaggio. Quindi, gli Oli Sacri venivano portati da tale Abazia alla chiesa di San Michele Arcangelo (oggi un rudere) che si trova in una contrada di Forza D’Agrò, con la popolazione che anticamente usava adornarsi per tale processione con nastri di seta colorati, ai quali col tempo, sono andati ad aggiungersi i rami di alloro, portati anche questi dai devoti in processione. La festa si basa essenzialmente su tre elementi fortemente simbolici, l’alloro, l’Olio Santo, e le “cuddure”. “L’alloro” rappresenta la “vittoria del Cristo sulla Morte”, infatti la festa si svolge il “Giorno dell’Angelo” durante il periodo Pasquale, giorno che rievoca che è avvenuta la Resurrezione del Cristo; l’alloro è una pianta fortemente simbolica e profumata, essa viene utilizzata in questo contesto, per elaborate composizioni che adornano “gli stendardi”, i quali sono dei drappi-vessilli, possono essere di piccole dimensioni perché realizzati dai bambini, fino a molto grandi ed alti (difficili da reggere quando c’è vento per il forte “effetto vela” che essi causano), sono realizzati con delle strutture portanti fatte di canna o di legno, che servono a reggere le stoffe sulle quali vengono cucite una ad una, le foglie di alloro, realizzando dei disegni di carattere religioso, stendardi che partecipano ad una gara per la migliore realizzazione (ogni stendardo infatti porta un numero, come riferimento per la giuria votante); “l’Olio Santo” è un elemento usato per l’unzione dei malati ed invocarne la guarigione, rappresenta la “redenzione dal peccato” e la “guarigione spirituale”, viene portato in processione (insieme a delle foglie di alloro), anch’esso simbolo dello Spirito Santo che abbraccia corpo ed anima dell’uomo e che rimanda a Cristo, “l’Unto”; infine “le cuddure” (sono dei piccoli pani di forma circolare, con la pasta lievitata naturalmente ed intrecciata, su cui è impresso un simbolo), esse simboleggiano la “prosperità”, ma anche la “carità”, è per questo che i confrati della SS. Trinità li distribuiscono alle persone presenti alla festa in segno di dono. Quest’anno però, a causa delle restrizioni causate dal Covid-19, le “cuddure” non si sono fatte, la “benedizione degli Oli Santi” è stata eseguita nella Chiesa Madre, e non nella caratteristica piazza che si trova nel centro del paese, mentre la processione è stata fatta lungo un breve percorso, e non lungo il percorso tradizionale, molto più lungo, che dopo aver attraversato il centro del paese, poi lo circoscrive lungo tutta la sua periferia. Per quanto esposto prima, tale festa viene chiamata anche "a’ festa d'u d'auru" (la festa dell'alloro), oppure "a’ festa di cudduredde" (la festa dei piccoli pani a forma di ciambella); la "premiazione degli stendardi" chiude questa caratteristica festa, tra la grandissima gioia di tutti coloro che vi hanno partecipato.
Oh don't sulk, darling....it happens to the best of us, and I'm not really making fun of you. In fact, I find your occasional naiveté in these matters positively endearing. 😋
Anyway, though she was concerned about her shoulders and her bra, the story had a happy ending. Her shoulders simply weren't a problem at all, and the bra she had on worked just fine. I simply pulled her straps down and she wore it that way all evening with no trouble. As I told Daisy, she needn't have worried...her Mistress has been there herself many times, and knows just what to do. 😉
The Victorian skirt...
The realization of this skirt cost me hours of work... (｡◕‿-｡)
I had to make two studies before finding the system to obtain conical tubular folds that I wanted. So I finally sewed several triangular pieces, each with a double fold. The bottom of the skirt is decorated with a veritable old Mechlin lace, very delicate and fragile, suspended by small bows of pink silk chiffon. This skirt is longer at the back than the front, and the small bows follow the curvature of the profile.
n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk
Chronicles of lifting Light C (The Reception Game)
A forethought
“The wedding was a bit over the top. The bride wanted her girl’s dresses to be something they would wear out again. A nice thought, but the gowns she found were a little too long for anything but formal evening wear, according to our girls who were asked to be part of the bridal party. The maid of honour wore a red silk version; the six Bridesmaids wore theirs in black satin.” Each of the girls were also presented with a matching collection of Swarovski rhinestones “traditional classic darlings” ! The jewellery, when added to the girl’s ensemble, further enhanced the red carpet like atmosphere of the Bridal party coterie’!
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Intro of the story proper :
“A few years ago, “Ginny” was watching some type of show when I heard her squeal out. Our Golden Retriever ‘Sam’ meandered back in to see what all the fuss was about? I obediently followed. Ginny pointed out to us a model who was wearing, rather fetchingly I might add, a long black satin gown. That’s m’ gown Ginny exclaimed, you remember, the one I wore at “Sheila’s” wedding, the one where my necklace was sn…., But at that point her attention was diverted back to her program. Squirrel I teased as Sam and I watched with her.
It was a gown strikingly very similar in colour, cut, and material to the one worn by Ginny ( and me sister) at a chums wedding years before ( and winningly worn several times hence I might add). It is a pretty thing to behold my charming Ginny sporting it, and in its time, it has born witness to a few goings on that most ladies wearing a gown like that would never encounter…….”
Chronicles of lifting Light C
Story Proper
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This story is true, and is really pretty much told as it happened.
What we did may sound daft, but read and understand the circumstances, plus realize we all were pretty well lit up with drink.
I will plead guilty at having enhanced certain aspects of the story.
For indeed, truth can be stranger than fiction… and coincidences occur, both sweet and bitter….. as I’m sure someone once said.
So here goes it….
My twin sister and our friend “Ginny” were invited to join in a school chums bridal party. The groom didn’t have enough to go around so my sister’s boyfriend “Brian” and I were pressed, not unwillingly, into service.
As I stated earlier, the wedding and reception were both over the top posh. So much so that our opinions, and subsequent escapades, were still coming up amongst us as a topic of conversation at our local haunt The ‘Poet and the Peasant Pub’, kept by Brian’s Auntie and Uncle..
www.flickr.com/groups/poet_and_the_peasant__pub_/
The Wedding proper was held at the local Cathedral. A rather decadent place built with a hearty clash of gothic/ medieval styles ; with black stone towers, Lancet arches, and fly away buttresses.
Inside one finds white marble columns, oak pews blackened with age, intricate wood work and ghostly while statues. All lit with hanging diamond shaped antique glass lights and colourful lead glass stained windows depicting a horde of medieval era religious scenes.
I twas a fine backdrop for the rather glamoursly attired guests in attendance. The wedding ceremony itself would have been an interesting tale in and of itself, but that telling will await another day, for mine has its’ beginnings at the Reception.
The Reception was held in the basement, a grand place with an opulent ballroom, well stocked bar room and elegant dining area. The subterranean basement was decorated richly along the same grand lines as the interior of the ancient Cathedral above.
We were some time at the reception when my Ginny , who had been held up on her way back from the loo by a snobbish dowager feeling the need to criticise someone, regained her seat by plopping down with a loud woosh.
That was a chore, being picked apart by that “lovely !”creature. she exclaimed cynically, whilst adjusting her loose brooch. We all just smirked. I had received the same treatment from the lecturing prig earlier that evening.
Well, to be honest , my twin sister and Brian just actually were smirking at that. I believe my attention at the time was rather more occupied on the area where Ginny’s Brooch lay, which was the proper cause of my smirk! (naughty me)
Finished, Ginny than leaned against me sister, and, still reeling from being inappropriately chided, made a snide comment about the flimsy clasps on the shimmering jewellery they were wearing. My Sister, touching her necklace, told her, “ no worries, luv, no one would nick them anyways, they are only rhinestones”. Except my ring isn’t, said Ginny looking down at the ruby ring she was wearing on her pinky. My sister, thinking a minute, retorted “Then one never knows… “ , It looked like she was going to add something to that, but at that point the band restarted, and we joined the swarm of fancy dress gowns, silky dresses, suits and tuxes worn by the chic guests as they herded to the dance floor.
As we headed off, I was still perplexed about what had been going on in Sis’s head that made her come out with that reply, and I swear she had stolen a look at me while saying it. But as I had watched her pull at an earring to emphasize how loose the sparkling jewel was, a seed was planted in my head about a subject I myself had always found rather intriguing, pickpocketing jewelry!
Much later that evening, found Brian, me sister, and I alone, and probably more than a little drunk (always a precarious time with us). As Sis and Brain chatted on about a topic I had soon lost interest in, I started to watch Ginny, who had been asked to dance by some twit with shifty eyes in a red silk shirt, (open collared), who had rudely cut in on us. As I watched Ginny’s swishing gown liquidly move and flutter about in quite an interesting exhibition, I found meself mesmerized by the beckoning manner in which her healthy display of rhinestones were sparkling about( as they had been all evening). I looked back at my sister, and her own show of jewelry, also sparkling up nicely against the smooth black satin backdrop of her own matching gown..
Still not being able to shake me twin’s earlier comment about nicking jewels, nor its answer, out of my head , I waited for a lull in conversation to finally chance asking my twin about her comments.
She looked at me, having to think back a bit about the question, ( As I said, we were more drunk than sober by then), placing a nicely ringed finger to her lips, while regrouping her thoughts. Got it, she exclaimed! Proudly remembering what had triggered her memory, and with that she started to explain.
When she was a tyke of about 7, there was a show that she had seen on the tele that centered on this group of people trying to reform a thief. Believing that he had turned a new leaf, they threw a fancy dress dance for him in honour of his new ways. During the dance, he cut in and danced with each of the three ladies who had been trying to teach him the errors of his ways. From one he slipped off her long diamond earrings, from a second her diamond necklace was lifted away, but me sister was unsure what the scoundrel took from the third. Sis had reckoned that the earrings and necklaces that she and Ginny were wearing that evening, looked a lot like the ones worn by ( and nicked from) the ladies on that show.
Now, as me twin described the thief’s antics, certain emotions awakened, rearing their tantalizing heads; my mind began wandering in some deep waters, pulled bout by some deep personal emotions. Cause I had been sitting on the couch with her, when as quite young children, we had seen a repeat of that episode.
As it happened my sister had been outside earlier playing dress up in on of mum’s old party frocks and was still wearing it, along with a set of costume pearls. Suddenly, that day, I wanted nothing more in the world than to lift the pearls she was wearing. I simmered over it for the rest of the program, getting to the point of actually laying my arm on the back of the couch, inching my fingers towards the clasp of her pearls laying there upon the back of her throat. But then the show ended, and I got no closer to stealing anything more than a touch of a really soft old evening gown. After the show ended, I warily suggested we go back outside and play Robin Hood (my sister has always been into his story).
We did, and as Sir Robin led her to his hideout, conveniently located through a thicket of Hawthorne’s, the pretty Maid Marion’s pearls mysteriously melted away.
That is when I had I had my epiphany, hitting me like a brick wall! Waiting till sis finished her story, I pointed out to Ginny, and asked the pair, If Ginny had been the third lady he had danced with, what jeweles do you think he would have found easiest to lift from her while dancing?
Brian , always the more pragmatic of the group, snorted, that’s stuff that only happens in stories and movies.
I said I would bet it can be done, a quid says I can lift a piece of Ginny’s jewelry with her never noticing. Sis chimed in, you wouldn’t dare, but she was looking at me like she knew the answer already. Brian caught her tone, and took me up on it, betting me the quid that I couldn’t get away with lifting her necklace,( I liked his choice, it had been a necklace that “Sir Robin” had first lifted from me sisters neck that day in the woods long past).
At this time the music ended, and Ginny swished back to rejoin us. As we played mute about our plans, we welcomed the damsel back and acted like there had been nothing in the world goin on amongst us while she was out dancing.
We drank and talked for a bit more, and I was all but certain that Brian and my sister had all but forgotten the wager.
But I hadn’t, nor had I been able to keep my eyes from studying the glittery rhinestones Ginny had draped around her pretty throat. When a slow song started up, I rose and asked Ginny to a dance. I caught Brian’s eyes, and read the dare reflecting in them, so we were still on with the wager.
Leading Ginny to the dance floor, we embraced, and danced to the pretty song beginning to play, it twas a slow romantic one ( lady in red If I recall correctly). Ginny was absolute pure heaven in my arms, and I found me self so entrapped by her charms, that all ambitions to be a thief and make an attempt upon her lovely rhinestone necklace fell to the wayside.
As the song was ending, I caught a look from Brian across the dance floor, noticing that he smugly was looked at Ginny’s throat. I did not want to lose me quid on principle (I swear), so as the dance ended I held onto Ginny, waiting. Soon a second song started, disappointedly a more fast paced one with a Latin beat. I spun Ginny around onto the floor before she had time to catch a breath, we danced, like the song which played says:
And we… danced like a wave on the ocean, romanced
We were liars in love and we danced
Swept away for a moment by chance
And we danced, danced, danced
And dance we did, hot, furious and fast. A couple of times I spun Ginny around, and the poor girl already a bit tipsy, fell against me, giggling. About the third time I spun her, she stopped, and dropped backside into me and began to do this sort of gyrating move, slithering up and down my front side, with her hands held high above her head, her longish ginger hair had fallen over one shoulder, exposing her necklace in all its fine brilliance. As her warm, sweaty figure slipped up and down against mine, I watched the back of her throat, eyeing the necklace as it sparkled opulently in the dim lights. I started Studying, intently, the sparkly chain with it’s simple hook in eye clasp.
She brought her hands down behind me back, crossing them behind me waist. My right hand went to the front of her waist, holding onto her squirming, satin slippery sweating figure, pressing her warm body tightly against me.
My left hand went up to her shoulder, gliding along the glossy slick fabric of her black satin gown, until I reached her necklace. It only took seconds for my fingers to lift up, and slip off the hook from its”eye” , letting the shimmering chain slither down the front side of Ginny’s satin clad breasts. My right hand left her waist, and travelled nimbly, tingling, all the way up the front until my fingers grasped the dangling chain. My left hand let go, and the necklace whisked down the front of her perking bosom, tightly covered by the glossy black satin bridesmaid gown. The whole bit of thievery took me only a few chords of the music, but it seemed to be carried out in slow motion in the process.
We finished out the song, me basking in the fact that my gyrating partner was innocently unaware that her shiny necklace had been pinched, and were now residing in her dance partners vest pocket. I will admit feeling a twinge of regret that it no longer could be seen glittering from around its’ mistress’s now bare throat.
We made our way back to the others, Brian had a smug look on his bearded face, I knew he was up to something. As I sat down, he whispered double it or nothing mate, that she notices it’s missing before we leave. I nodded, taking him up on it.
So, the game was still on, and for the last two hours that we stayed at the reception poor Ginny became the unknowing centre of our somewhat devious game1
Brain, eagerly waiting for Ginny to notice her missing necklace, tried for the most part to remain mute. I sweated it a bit, but his saboteur’s tactics failed.
I’ll admit I hadn’t thought it out before agreeing, but what probably should have been a suckers bet, with a million ways for Ginny to notice her necklace was playing hooky, apparently was going with the long odds for me to win.
I sweated it a bit, butno-one else amongst the crowd pointed out, or even seemed to care that Ginny was no longer wearing her necklace! Even the bloke in the open collared re shirt, who managed to steal Ginny away for another dance, failed to say anything. Which made me a mite curious as to where his attention span had been focused.
Even when me sister tried to help Brian out by playing with her own jewelled necklace while she held Ginny’s attention during conversation in the ladies powder room, failed to cause a reaction!
Through all this, the poor creature never quite caught on that her necklace had been lifted from her throat ! Unscrupulously nicked away on a whimsical bet while innocently dancing!
And continued danced with me she did, all of us thoroughly enjoying the rest of the evening’s attractions, along with the bit of fun we were having at poor Ginny’s expense.! But I made damn sure that our poor victim had the time of her life for my repentance.
Then during our last slow dance, I did start to harbour the prickling thought of trying for another of Ginny’s baubles. But the thought of winning 2 quid from Brian, who in his time has won a bit more from me than I him, kept my thoughts of further thievery in check! I knew my spirit was weakening. Fortunately we left soon afterwards….
We finally left the reception after midnight and made our way along the ten city blocks back to the hotel where Ginny and my twin sister shared a joining room with Brian and meself.
Ginny walked calmly with us, unaware of the picaresque devils that were us, keeping pace beside her. As were making our way through a short cut in a wooded Provincial park, we stopped in a small isolated glen and circled around Ginny. Sis was grinning as she asked poor unawares Ginny; So luv, whatever did happen to your necklace? Gin’s reaction was absolutely, rewardingly priceless.
Ginny, a relatively innocent soul, who is prone to believing most anything told to her, started, and her hand went to her throat, feeling about fruitlessly, as her rustling glossy gown and remaining jewels glistened dark in the full moons’ light.
“M’ necklace, why it’s gone? , where did it go!, she pleaded helplessly, her thought patterns and speech a little slurred by her rather intoxicated condition. We than got into it, playing dumb along with her, and tried to figure out the “mystery” I said the last time I saw it was when that seedy bloke cut in, and I ran my hand up her back, feeling the shivers going down her spine, did the blighter touch you like that, then luv. No she said, then thought hard, no she repeated, he couldn’t have, he was a proper gentleman, and it was only rhinestone, like your sister said.
I don’t know said Brian, never trust any gent who doesn’t wear a tie to fancy dress! He had to ‘ave been up to no good, that one!
My sister then commented that the bloke may have not noticed no difference, and she held out her own necklace, I’m glad he didn’t ask me to dance.
No, Ginny shook her head, her long earrings flickering a frenzied fire out from her let down ginger hair, no one could have lifted them like that, I’d have felt it….I’m sure of that…!
She looked desperately around at us, then seeing the look on upon our faces, Ginny froze with the realization that we had all been up to something, and, then a smile of relief showed up on her pretty face, as I held up her necklace, sparkling in front of her eyes. A sly look of understanding that we had been up to something crept into those dazzling green eyes , as she told us now to spill it out.
We explained the whole tale as Sis helped Ginny place her necklace back on. Ginny, with her usual good humor, said she had never noticed a thing, and it probably was a good thing we weren’t real thieves, because if her necklace had been diamonds, it would have been worth a small fortune. And shame on us for having her believe it was that poor blighter in the red shirt.
We wouldn’t’ make very good thieves I agreed we drink too much. She just smiled, a curious looking gleam creeping up into those witchy green eyes of hers. Let’s get going before we meet a real thief then, urged my sister, all this talk about someone thinking our jewels are real is giving me the right chills.
Our drunken little group then merrily, if not a little more guardedly, made our way home..
This next bit is my favorite.
We rode the elevator up to the boy’s room, as the girls called our room, where we drank beer, danced to music and talked on a bit about the reception. The girls stayed in dress and I happily soaked up the pretty picture the pair of admirably attractive girls presented with their long sheets of straight hair now just hanging down, their “diamonds” sparkling and all other assorted frills enticing.
About two hours later found Brian and myself sitting on the couch in kind of a hazy stupor while holding onto our beers. Ginny and my sister were standing directly in front of us, holding beers of their own and giggling over some girlish nonsense, the hypnotic swaying of their longish glossy black satin gowns slowly putting me to sleep.
Brain, draining his beer, got up to get another, bumping against my sister and playfully grabbed a handful. My sister started giggling at him as he sauntered off grinning, turning her figure so the brooch at the centre of her gowns’ waistline almost wacked me on the nose. Half asleep I reached over and gingerly lifted it up.
Looking up at the girls I saw that neither was paying no never mind towards me. Ginny, however, laid a hand on my twins shoulder, drawing her close so she could whisper some girlish secret about Brian. I continued on, and was able to undo the brooch, and slip it carefully off without notice. I slipped her jewel into my pocket; waiting until I could think ,now that I did the deed, just hpw I would tease her about it.
Brian stopped on the way back and reset the music, a slow song came up. Sis went to him, and the pair started dancing. I rose and taking Ginny by the hand, followed suit, leading her to the bit of a dance floor we had cleared. She was again, pure heaven in my arms and my hands slipped liberally up and down her smooth, slinky gowned figure.
Ginny smiled! I knew that smile, and realized that something was going on behind her pretty green eyes.
She flicked back her sheet of ginger hair, and leaned against me. I saw you, she huskily whispered, her voice putting a tickle in my ear. Saw me I asked, not getting it. I saw you lift that dame’s diamond brooch, Ginny said in a sultry voice as she looked over towards where my sister was dancing, (no, she was actually swooning), in Brian’s arms.
Now mate, you see that one over there, in the black dancing with the bearded gent? I looked over, as she continues, look at ‘er necklace, I have a fancy for diamonds, and if you don’t want me to call security, I suggest you get hers for me, darling, she said with conspiracy like tones, acting like she was some old time actress in a movie. I loved the devilishness of Ginny’s role play idea and it did not take much to toss me whole heart and soul into the assignment!.
Check out the Sonia clip shortcut at the end of my tale( recommend viewing)
Now wide awake, I got fully into Ginny’s game. As we continued dancing, my eyes watched Brian and me sister, taking careful inventory of all the “dames” sparkling jewelry. Sis turned, and caught my eyes looking her over, she blushed, and not knowing what was really going through my mind, smiled at me. As I smiled back, my eyes drinking her fetchingly attired figure up!
I was imagining that all of her ample collection of rhinestones so prettily positioned on her figure, were real diamonds. And that I was an actual thief plotting to nick her lovely sparklers. I looked into Ginny’s eyes. You have a deal miss, I whispered, making my voice deep and throaty, as I imagined meself as some, albeit drunk, Humphrey Bogart type character in some grittingly shadowy film noir style black and white movie.
The song ended and a second, even slower one began playing. Brian and my sister were still locked into each other’s arms, but I felt that the time to make my move was now. Throwing Ginny a wink, I went over and cut in, Brian looked drunkenly at me like “whattsup chap,” but Ginny was right behind and swirled him conveniently away before he could properly react.
And as I took the pretty, wide eyed with innocence looking “dame” into my arms I found it exciting that she was oblivious to my nefarious intentions. Naïvely unaware, that in indifference to her own words earlier, someone did now want to nick the jewelry which was quite so merrily dangling from her svelte figure. Now, don’t forget at this point to me she was no longer my sister, but a sweet innocent victim weighted down with desirable loot. And I? I was nothing more than a suave thief deliciously hungering after her bright baubles, albeit, a slightly inebriated suave thief!
I bided my time, appearing to look into my twins/victims half opened eyes ( she was really lit by this time, as we all were) , my mind was working overtime on how the best approach to reach my objective. Then it came to me, quite clearly, and so Bob became my uncle, and I began his suggested approach…. And if I would have dared say so at the time, I executed my bit of jewel thievery like a pro….That is if there are actually pros at this sort of thing1?
Employing the same method that I remembered the thief using in the Gilligan’s Island episode to remove his dance partners necklace, I began to compliment my twin on how devastating her and Ginny looked both looked that evening (no lies), slowly moving my one hand up the slick material of the gown covering her back as I whispered my praise. Easily I reached the dangling part of her hook and eye necklace with its’ glittering rows of “diamonds”. She ate it up, blushing and closing her eyes, naively cooperating by tilting her head down, exposing even more of the back of her throat, and laying bare the chain of her “diamond” necklace. As she fawned over my words of (not false) praise, I subtly lifted up the chain of her necklace, whilst my free hand held her ever so her tightly around the waist. For the second time that evening I could feel the heat emanating from my victims squirming figure. As well as again feeling me own heart pounding a storm.
I gently used my free left hands’ fingers to unhooked the clasp, and let the necklace fall over her one shoulder. Sis never felt it hanging, or noticed it as I peeled it off her chest (whisking along her gown smooth as silk) and pulled it over her gown’s satin shoulder till it slipped sparkling down behind her. I held it hanging loose behind her back for a few turns, still pouring out the compliments, until I pocketed it, letting it join her purloined brooch.
Meanwhile, Brian had left Ginny to go to the loo, and I saw Ginny, who had been eagerly watching all of it, give me a wink. Then she turned and stole out the apartment door, her longish slinking gown slipping through behind her as she closed the door. I made ready to make some excuse to break away from my sister and head after her with my loot.
But just as I opened my mouth to make that excuse , Sis pulled her arms behind me head, and laid her own head back on my shoulder and closed her tired eyes, getting into the music’s deep beat. One of her longish rhinestone earrings just hung there sparkling, mocking me to touch it, and like Gingers diamonds, I saw them as quite ripe for the picking.
With the prize within my grasp, I momentarily forgot about the departing Ginny, and I made my move. I found meself trembling a bit, as I reached up and placed my hands gently alongside her ear, her eyes still shut, my victim smiled prettily. The rest of the manoeuvre was surprisingly easy, as I glided my fingers down and slipped it off the earring in one effortless motion. The sparkling beauty came away from her sweaty ear as smoothly as an ice cube moves along a steaming hot grill ( I actually did have a thought like that). I held it in one fist for a bit, watching my victim, she had not felt so much as a tickle on her earlobe, as I had removed her earring. Relishing in my success, I looked at it dangling and shimmering in my hand behind her back. Then, as I secured her diamonds away, I thought about trying for the other. But thought better of it, knowing Ginny was just waiting on the other side of the door.
I finished out the dance, taking my sisters hand with its dazzling bracelet and rings, and admired them while I kissed it, the “Dames” Bracelet tantalizing slipped down along her wrist and brushed against me knuckles. At that moment, we both heard the toilet flushing, and my twin looked over her shoulder laughing. As she did do, I saw an opportunity opening up and taking her dangling diamonded bracelet in me fingers, tugged it down ever so discreetly. Surprisingly the clasp popped opened ( right about being flimsy luv, I silently agreed with my twin’s earlier statement)!
I daringly pulled it free from around her wrist and slipped it in me pocket just as she turned back around to face her dance partner. I could see in her eyes that she had not felt nor noticed anything outta place. I’d better be off after Ginny I said, clearing me throat, and then , with no fanfare, let go of her hand. It dropped to her side, rings flashing, purloined bracelet gone from where it had, with cheeky regality, had been holding shimmering court all evening.
Nice doing business with you I said, bemused as I watched the puzzlement creep into her half awake eyes while I backed away from her towards the door.
And that chaps, is how I left her. With my grainy black and white movie still playing out in my mind. She just was standing there puzzled, a wealthy lady in fancy dress, unknowingly watching the dashing stranger leave with the “fortune” in jewels she thought she still was wearing. She innocently watched me as I left the room with her “diamonds” in my scoundrel’s possession!
However, it was my turn to look puzzled as I went out, Ginny was nowhere to be seen! I quickly looked around, then headed to the elevator and rode down in it, alone at this early morning hour, to the lobby.
I arrived there, and at first the lobby appeared deserted, cept for a lonely desk clerk with her head buried in a novel. Then breathed a sigh of relief, there, around a corner, Ginny stood talking to some older lady wearing a garish grey pant suit, with this blue tinted helmet of curly hair covered by a large silk head scarf, and carrying an overlarge purse. I suddenly realized that now my anxiety had gone, another urge had taken its place. Ginny looked up, and smiles happily at me, and I smiled back, indicated that I had to go for a minute, and headed meself to the loo.
Coming out after I finished, I saw that the lobby was actually now really empty, not even the desk clerk was visible. Thinking Ginny may have gone back upstairs, I first went to the hotels double doors to chance a look outside onto the street below. I just caught sight of a wisp of black gown moving just out of sight past the stairs, on the now smoggy sidewalk below.
I headed out, and there was Ginny walking with the Blue haired stranger, they appeared to be looking for something. I started wondering if Ginny had invited this stranger to go on out walk with us? But no, apparently the blue haired lady in the unfortunate grey pantsuit had discovered her keys were missing, and thought they had dropped somewhere after getting out of a taxi just around the corner. And Ginny, bless her kind heated soul, had offered to help the distressed lady look for them.
As Ginny was telling me all this after I had caught up, the blue haired older lady , her cheerful face now stern, had started rummaging in her large shoulder bag, I sneaked a peek over her shoulder and saw that is contained quite an amazing assortment of items , ( no wonder it had to be so big). Suddenly she uttered an exclamation, found them she said, triumphantly pulling out an interesting assortment of skeleton type keys on a small ring. Happily smiling at Ginny, she pulled her into an enveloping hug for her efforts, before quickly leaving, but not without first giving me a sidelong glance with a disapproving look from her now pursed–lipped mouth as she passed. But I at the time put it down as her just being stressed out from believing she had misplaced her keys.
I am so glad she found her keys remarked Ginny, taking up me hand. That lady was ever so nice, she wanted to know where I had been dressed up all pretty like I am, and when I told her about the wedding, she said it must have been lovely. Then she admired me dress, and rhinestones. Then asked if me ruby ring was a gift from the bride. Liked your ring huh, I asked Ginny, my mind clearing up a little. Oh yes she said, lifted my hand, looked at it an everything!
Then the poor dear missed her keys, and asked if I could be a dear and help her look outside, and that was that until you showed up. (Looking outside for keys at 2:30 in the morning? I thought to myself) As I said ti Ginny, it is a pretty ring, and taking her arm, we started down the block together.
My mind, now somewhat attuned to the reality of things, went back to the blue haired lady and her large shoulder bag. Among some of various items I had seen had been a penknife, a length of old silk sash cord, small bundle of lacy handkerchiefs, and a small torch! Then add in the odd assortment of keys on her “misplaced” keyring, and put it all together, it all began to sum up to a new, slightly more sinister meaning of her intentions, in my take on the episode.
As we walked, I said nothing in reply to the happily chirping, richly attired girl walking beside me , as for the first time, and not the last, I wondered if something had been afoot with the Blue Haired, pursed mouthed lady that Ginny had seen as a kind older lady needed help, like the bird with a broken wing she had tried to help a few days past( a blue jay!). So was the blue haired lady, with the silk scarf and wearing a rather unisexual pantsuit, acting out the part of a “blue jay”, using her “broken wing” as a ruse to lure my Ginny safely away for her own nefarious reasons?
Surreptitiously, I carefully checked over Ginny from head to heeled toes as we walked, to make sure nothing was amiss. Her rhinestones were still safely all in their place, but I did not see the ruby ring, and me heart went still, and chills prickled down my spine! Bullocks! I swore under my breath, that pucker faced tart walked away with it. Ginny, I said, a little choked, she swirled facing me, her green eyes questioning, as she raised her hand to her perked breasts, and there it was, the small, but rather pricey, ruby ring she so loved wearing, the glittery darling had turned around on her finger so it was hidden from my view
.
I breathed a heavy sigh of relief, I just wanted to say how lovely you looked this evening my lass, I said saving myself. She smiled winningly, giving me a deep hug for my words. We walked on, as my beating heart slowed down, I convinced myself that maybe the incident of lost keys had all been harmless, and I was just being a worry-wort. I apologized silently for what I had called the fashion challenged blue haired lady in my mind. But I was still beginning to feel like ever a fool to have let Ginny, handsomely decked out as she was, out of my sight at this early hour of the morning.
I opened my mind and let all such thoughts flee my head, for the world was now ours, as we made our journey together, hand in hand. We ended up making a very long stroll in the Provincial Park, and reentering the same isolated, secret glen we had been in earlier, proceeded to continue acting out the role playing game we had started at the apartment.
Ginny went to the middle of the clearing to wait, pretending she was smoking, like a moll from a gangster movie. I circled and watched her sparkling figure, black in the glens shadows, move about a bit.
And as I did, my thoughts wondered a bit, and I remember reflecting ( not for the first time) how in the older black n whites, the heroine, or villainous, is always wearing gowns, elegant long gloves, and jeweled to the sparkling hilt. Then she walks alone to and then waits in some dark alley or other desolate spot for her contact, or hero to show up, much like Ginny was acting out now. So how is it that those fancy dressed and well jeweled unescorted dames, always manage to get to those spots, and are able to wait around in them alone, in those movies, and nary ever meet a ruffian who strips them of those pricy looking sparklers they are flaunting about? Just saying!
Saying a brief prayer that my thoughts were not tempting a fate of that type to occur to us now that I had been thinking it, I came out of the shadows and approached Ginny. Keeping my left hand in my pocket like I was carrying a heater. Hey sister, I said, been waiting long? No, she whispered, did you get the goods. Hot as ice I said proudly, producing the necklace and earring I had liberated from the dancing “dame”.
As I showed Ginny my take from “the dame”, she squealing over the fact I was able to take one of her diamond earrings, bonus she chanted. Playing a thief’s role, I kept mum about the bracelet, no honour amongst thieves I thought mischievously .
We laughed over what the “dames” reaction would be when the jewels were discovered missing. As we snickered, Ginny caught my eyes and then we got off on a tangent about jewel thieves in love, and ended up reenacting the “lure” scene from the movie ‘To Catch a Thief” ending up producing fireworks of our own making as Ginny lost all her jewels as well as her “innocence”.. We then made our way back home, as the cock crows, receiving a few odd looks from the occasional early morning lorry drivers.
And above all, I still remember feeling pretty bloody cocky as Ginny and I had sauntered our way to the park. And why not, I ask? Cause not only did I get to stroll about with the most captivating ginger haired lass, sparkling in fancy dress around, But I also had totally scored a hat trick in the jewelry lifting department, collecting two Quid to boot, and that’s what life is all about for us boys, winning the game, taint it?
So ends my story
Please leave a comment at the end of the story if you rather liked the telling..
The Sonia clip shortcut ( recommend viewing)
youtu.be/HAZdjhNVjxk
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Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
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I am not a person that is good in expressing myself with words, but my short trip to India let me realize how fortunate my life is. Even if something bad happens, things that don't go well, I guess it is still pale in comparison with what I saw in the slum area over there. I tried to capture my emotion at that moment in time so that I won't forget that feeling.
On the other hand, India do have really fine historical architectures and also, warm smiles.
Throwing off Satan’s Yoke Is Liberating | Eastern Lightning
Momo Hefei City, Anhui Province
Before I believed in God, no matter what I was doing, I never wanted to fall behind. I was willing to accept any hardship as long as it meant I could rise above everyone else. After I accepted God, my attitude remained the same, because I firmly believed in the saying, “No pain, no gain,” and saw my attitude as proof of my motivation. When God revealed the truth to me, I finally realized I had been living under Satan’s yoke, living under its domain.
Not too long ago, the church made plans to send the sister I partnered with out to serve in a leadership position. Upon hearing the news, my heart sank. We both used to serve in leadership roles until we were reappointed as editors. Now my sister would be returning to a leadership position and serve God with unlimited growth potential, but I’d still be stuck at a desk, performing my duty in obscurity. What future would there be in that? On second thought, I was reminded of the old saying, “There are a million different paths to success.” As long as I fulfilled my duty properly, I could also be successful. I just needed to redouble my efforts at pursuing the truth. If I focused on editing sermons so they better communicated the truth, maybe one day the leaders would see that I understood the truth. Then they’d promote me and my future would be equally as bright. After this realization, the gray clouds began to retreat in favor of a renewed determination. I threw myself into my work, and I ate and drank God’s word when I was not busy, not daring to slacken for even a moment.