We were in a high place,. Sitting in the branches of our tree. Our feet dangled over the edges,. Foreign and awkward at this new height. We found it together,. Through the rows and hedges,. Kicking our way across the dusty speckled paths. I want to get lost, I told you, blushed and impatient. Everything here looks the same. Okay, you said simply, with a smile. And so we followed each other, closing our eyes and pointing.

Meanwhile their acquisition of Skype has been slagged off.

For an object not feeling a force. Keeps its speed in a line.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008. This Special Edition of SENSE carries our submission to NERSA instead of the usual press reports. Further, EWT, the Zwartkops Tr.

And well, I like a saying I recently saw. Preparing a Body for Burial.