July 2013

5 articles in July 2013

Ssince the early part of this year I have been trying to lose some weight and keep the extra bulk off. Since my wife has always been in perfect shape and retained the perfect weight I thought it best to not represent a new version of Beauty and the Beast. However the holiday season represents a dieter’s hell in that the most remarkable types of food are perpetually thrown at you. At any other time of year, work represents a time and place where one can stay on a low calorie diet that includes dry turkey sandwiches on a bun that have more air in them then bread.

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Hhe was surprised how light she was. It was some years since he’d lifted her bodily, yet she seemed no heavier than when he first carried her over the threshold nine years ago. Her figure had altered very little in that time. Carefully he placed the body on the bed, almost as if he half-expected some sign of movement. But none came. Hurriedly he left the room. He was well behind schedule.

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Tthe last rays of sunlight paint the Armoured Personnel Carrier with soft tones of pink, blue and green: the green darkening by the second to eventually become olive drab. The rear-mounted 7.62mm machine gun swivels to the left and then to right, as its automatic infra-red target-acquisition system scans the desert. The hills, on either side of the Jezreel Valley, cast long shadows upon the valley floor and the shadows inch towards the two crew-members, engaged about a Primus stove.

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Tthe day we scattered Kelly’s ashes was a stormy one.

During her brief trek across the bay of Campeche, earlier in the week, Hurricane Dolly had pumped a tremendous amount of moisture into the Texas Gulf Coast region. On this day, she was nothing more than a tropical low, in the mountains of northern Mexico, but she was letting us know that she still had life within her.

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Iican see the smoke haze lingering in the air, making odd shapes as the sunlight, (peeking through a crack in the curtain), hits it. It makes for a moment of distraction, drawing me only briefly out of my reverie. I am lost in thought. Not about writing this, nor what I am going to say, that is being done by me, yet not by me. It is as if someone else has come in to express these words, write them down on the computer, make sense out of them. My thoughts though are holding me hostage, until I tell the story that I have to tell.. Maybe this is will be the ransom to free me of their bonds?

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