For one reason or another, you find yourself wandering in a world of chaos. The island of Canderis is one where no human has ever set foot, yet felines and canines abound. No one is quite sure how they came to be here, but the fact of the matter is that they are. The cats and dogs have been at war with each other since time began, at least as far back as anyone can remember. You have now come upon the scene. Which side will you choose? Perhaps you will prefer to stay out of it altogether. Now is the time to choose.
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A number of young girls were drawing water at the village well and telling each other their fantasies of when and whom and how they would marry. One of them said, "My uncle will come loaded with wedding presents and dress me in brocade, and I'll get married in a palace."
Another said, "My uncle is coming soon with a camel-load of sweets."
The third said, "Oh, my uncle will be here in no time in a golden carriage filled with jewels."
Bopoluchi was the prettiest of them all and she looked sad---she was an orphan and had no one in the world to arrange a marriage for her or give her a dowry. Still, not to be outdone by the others, she said, "And my uncle will bring me dresses, sweets, and jewels in golden plates."
A robber, disguised as a peddler selling perfumes to country women, happened to be sitting near the well. He heard what Bopoluchi said. He was so struck by her beauty and spirit that he decided to marry her himself. So the very next day, he disguised himself as a rich farmer and came to Bopoluchi's hut with trays full of silken dresses, sweets, and rare jewels---things he had looted and put away.
Bopoluchi could hardly believe her eyes, for it was just as she had fantasized.
The robber even said he was her uncle, her father's long-lost brother, and had come home to arrange his niece's wedding with one of his sons.
Bopoluchi couldn't believe her ears, but she believed him and was ecstatic. She packed up her few belongings and set off with the robber.
But as they went along the road, a crow in a tree croaked:
"Bopoluchi, beware! Smell the danger in the air! It's no uncle that relieves you But a robber who deceives you!" "Uncle," said Bopoluchi, "that crow croaks in a funny way. What does it say?" "Nothing," said the robber. "All the crows in this country croak like that."
A little farther on, they met a peacock which, as soon as it caught sight of the pretty girl, began to scream:
"Bopoluchi, beware! Smell the danger in the air! It's no uncle that relieves you But a robber who deceives you!" "Uncle," said the girl, "that peacock screams in a funny way. What does it say?" "Oh, nothing," said the robber. "All the peacocks scream like that in this country." Then a jackal slunk across the road and began to howl:
"Bopoluchi, beware! Smell the danger in the air! It's no uncle that relieves you But a robber who deceives you!" "Uncle," said Bopoluchi, "that jackal howls in such a funny way. What does it say?" "Oh, nothing," said the robber. "All the jackals howl like that in this country."
So Bopoluchi traveled with him many miles till they reached the robber's house. Once they were inside, he locked the door and told her who he was and how he wanted to marry her himself. She wept and wailed, but the pitiless robber left her with his ancient crone of a mother and went out to make arrangements for the marriage feast.
Now Bopoluchi had long, beautiful hair that reached down to her ankles, but the mother of the robber was so old she didn't have a hair on her head.
"Daughter," said the old hag, as she was getting the bridal clothes ready, "how did you manage to get such beautiful hair?"
"Well," replied Bopoluchi, "my mother had a way of making it grow by pounding my head in the big mortar for husking rice. At every stroke of the pestle, my hair grew longer and longer. It's a method that never fails."
"Maybe it will work for me, too, and make my hair grow," said the old woman, who had always wanted long hair and never had very much. "Maybe it will. Why don't we try it?" said Bopoluchi.
So the old mother put her head in the mortar, and Bopoluchi pounded away with such force that the old woman died.
Then Bopoluchi dressed the dead body in the scarlet bridal dress, seated it on the bridal chair, drew the veil over its face, and put the spinning-wheel in front of it, so that when the robber came home he might think it was his bride. Then she put on the old woman's clothes, picked up her few belongings, and stepped out of the house as quickly as possible.
On her way home, the robber saw her hurrying by. He had stolen a millstone to grind the grain for the feast. She was scared he would recognize her, but he didn't. He thought she was some old woman hobbling along. So Bopoluchi reached home safely.
When the robber came home and saw the figure in the bridal dress sitting in the bridal chair spinning, he thought it was Bopoluchi. He called her to help him with the millstone, but she didn't answer. He called again, but she still didn't answer. After calling a few more times, he flew into a rage and threw the millstone at her head. The figure toppled over, and when he came close, it wasn't Bopoluchi at all but his own old mother with her head bashed in. The robber wept and cried aloud and beat his breast because he thought he had killed his own mother. Soon it became clear to him that Bopoluchi was no longer around and had run away. He was wild with rage and ran out to bring her back, wherever she was.
When she reached home, Bopoluchi knew that the robber would certainly come after her. Every night she begged her neighbors to let her sleep in a different house, leaving her own little bed in her own little house empty. But she couldn't do this forever, as she soon came to the end of friends who would let her sleep in their houses. So she decided to brave it out and sleep in her own bed, with a sharp billhook next to her. Sure enough, in the middle of the night four men crept in, and each seizing a leg of the bed, lifted it up and walked off. The robber himself held the leg close behind her head. Bopoluchi was wide awake, but she pretended to be fast asleep until they came to a deserted spot and the thieves were off their guard. Then she whipped out the billhook and in a flash cut off the heads of the two thieves at the foot of the bed. Turning around quickly, she cut off the head of the third thief, but the robber himself ran away in a fright and scrambled up a nearby tree like a wild cat before she could get at him.
Bopoluchi cried out to him, brandishing her billhook, "Come down, if you are a man, and fight it out!"
But the robber would not come down. So Bopoluchi gathered all the sticks she could find, piled them around the tree, and set fire to them. The tree caught fire, and the robber, stifled by the smoke, tried to jump down and broke his neck.
After that, Bopoluchi went to the robber's house and carried off all the gold and silver, jewels, and clothes that were hidden there. She had them brought home to her village in silver and gold platters, on camels and donkeys. She was now so rich she could marry anyone she pleased.
Sukhu and Dukhu « Result #4 on Feb 28, 2009, 3:45am »
A man had two wives and had a daughter by each of them. Dukhu was the daughter of the elder wife and Sukhu was the daughter of the younger. The man loved his younger wife and her daughter
Sukhu more than the older wife and her daughter Dukhu. The daughters' natures were just like their mothers'. Sukhu was as lazy and ill-tempered as Dukhu was active and lovable. Furthermore, Sukhu and her mother hated the other two and treated them badly anytime they had the chance.
The man took ill, and died in spite of every kind of treatment. The younger wife inherited all his property, and she drove Dukhu and her mother out of the house.
Dukhu and her mother found an empty hut outside town and occupied it. They made a living by spinning thread. One day when Dukhu was spinning outside her hut, the wind blew hard and carried away her wad of cotton. She ran after it but couldn't catch up with it. When she began to cry in desperation, she heard a voice in the wind, "Don't cry, Dukhu, come with me. I'll give you all the cotton you want."
So she followed the wind. On the way, she met a cow, which spoke to her: "Not so fast, Dukhu. My shed is covered with dung. Wash it clean for me, and I'll help you later."
Dukhu drew water from the well and got herself a broom and washed the cowshed clean as clean could be. The wind was waiting for her to finish. As soon as she finished, she went with the wind again. They came to a plantain tree, which stopped her and said, "Where are you going, Dukhu? Can't you stop a minute and pull down all these creepers from my body so that I can stand up straight? It's hard to stand bent down like this all day and all night. Please."
"I'll be glad to do that," said Dukhu, and she tore down all the creepers that were smothering the tree.
The tree said, "You're a good girl. I'll help you some other time."
"I didn't do anything special, really," said Dukhu and hurried on, for the wind was waiting for her.
Next she met a horse and it said, "Where are you going, Dukhu? This saddle and bridle cut into me. I can't bend down to eat the grass. Will you please take them off for me?"
Dukhu took off the saddle and bridle. The horse was grateful and promised her a gift.
The wind said, as they moved on, "Do you see that palace there? That's where the Mother of the Moon lives. She can give you as much cotton as you want." With that, he left her there.
Dukhu walked towards the palace. It seemed deserted. She felt afraid and lonely. She stood there in front of it for a while and then decided to go in. Timidly, step by step, she walked through the rooms. Not a mouse stirring, not a living soul anywhere. Suddenly she heard a noise behind a closed door. She went up to it and knocked softly. A voice said, "Come in."
Dukhu pushed the door open and saw an old lady working at a wheel. She was luminous as if the moon was specially shining on her.
Dukhu bowed to her, touched her feet and said, "Granny, the wind blew away all my cotton. If I don't spin, my mother and I will starve. Will you give me some cotton?"
"I'll give you something better than cotton," said the old Mother of the Moon, "if you are deserving. Do you see that pond out there? Go to that pond and dip in it twice. Only twice, not three times, remember."
So Dukhu walked out of the palace and went to the pond and took a dip. When she rose out of the water, she had been changed into someone very beautiful. When she took a second dip, she was covered with silks, pearls, and gems. Her sari was muslin, and she had gold necklaces so heavy that they weighed her down. She couldn't believe what was happening to her.
When she ran back to the palace, the old woman said, "Child, I know you are hungry. Go to the next room. I've food there for you."
The next room had food of every kind, the best rice, the finest curries, sweets beyond her dreams. After eating her fill, she went back to the old woman, who said, "I want to give you something more," and showed her three caskets, each bigger than the next. "Choose one," she said. Dukhu chose the smallest one and said good-bye to the old woman and left the palace.
As she retraced her steps, she met the horse, the plantain tree, and the cow. Each wanted to give her a gift to take home with her. The horse gave her a young colt of the finest breed; the tree gave her a bunch of plantains yellow as gold and a pot full of old gold coins; and the cow gave her a tawny calf whose udders would never be dry.
Dukhu thanked them all for their wonderful gifts, seated herself on the colt with the pot of gold and the plantains, and found her way home, with the calf walking close behind her.
Her mother, meanwhile, had made herself sick with anxiety, not knowing where Dukhu had gone and when she would come back. She was beside herself with joy when she heard Dukhu's voice call out, "Mother, where are you? Look what I've got!"
When the mother had recovered from her shock of joy, she couldn't believe her eyes. The muslins, the jewels, the gold coins, the plantains, the horse, and the calf---she looked at every one of them over and over. She was speechless.
After a while she found her voice and asked her daughter how she came by all these fabulous things. Dukhu told her the whole story about the wind, the cow, the tree, the horse, and the old Mother of the Moon, and ended by saying, "That's not all. Here's something else she has given me: this casket!"
She then showed her mother the casket. They thought it would be full of more jewels, pearls, gold, and silver. But when they slowly opened it, out of it stepped a most handsome young man dressed like a prince.
"I've been sent here to marry you," he said to Dukhu, without wasting an extra word.
Soon a date was fixed, kith and kin were invited, and a great gala wedding was celebrated. The only people who did not come to the wedding were Sukhu and her mother.
Now, Dukhu's mother was a good woman. Though she had suddenly come into wealth and status, it hadn't gone to her head. She still wanted to be friends with Sukhu and her mother. So she offered Sukhu some ornaments, as they now had heaps of them. But Sukhu's mother was offended. She put her fist to her cheek and hissed, "Why should Sukhu take your leftovers? She's not going begging for jewels! If God had wanted to give my daughter jewels, he would have kept her father alive. My Sukhu is lovely as she is. She needs no ornaments. Only girls who are ugly as owls need fine saris and necklaces to make them look good."
But she didn't forget to make discreet inquiries to find out how Dukhu had come by her great good fortune. Once she learned where Dukhu had gone and how she found the Mother of the Moon, she said to herself, "I'll show her! She is trying to rub her good luck in my face. I'll make my Sukhu a hundred times richer."
Then she brought Sukhu a spinning-wheel and made her spin in the outer yard where the wind was blowing. "Listen to me carefully, Sukhu, my dear," she said. "The wind will blow away your wad of cotton. Then don't forget to howl and wail till the wind asks you to follow it. Be courteous to anyone you meet on the way. Go wherever the wind takes you till you meet the Mother of the Moon."
Living Like a Pig « Result #5 on Feb 28, 2009, 3:45am »
One day, a guru foresaw in a flash of vision what he would be in his next life. So he called his favorite disciple and asked him what he would do for his guru in return for all he had received. The disciple said he would do whatever his guru asked him to do. Having received this promise, the guru said, "Then this is what I'd like you to do for me. I've just learned that when I die, which will be very soon, I'm going to be reborn as a pig. Do you see that sow eating garbage there in the yard? I'm going to be reborn as the fourth piglet of its next litter. You'll recognize me by a mark on my brow. When that sow has littered, find the fourth piglet with a mark on its brow and, with one stroke of your knife, slaughter it. I'll then be released from a pig's life. Will you do this for me?"
The disciple was sad to hear all this, but he agreed to do as he had promised.
Soon after this conversation, the guru did die. And the sow did have a litter of four little pigs. One day, the disciple sharpened his knife and picked out the fourth little pig, which did indeed have a mark on its brow. Just as he was about to bring down his knife to slit its throat, the little pig suddenly spoke. "Stop! Don't kill me!" it screamed.
Before the disciple could recover from the shock of hearing the little pig speak in a human voice, it said, "Don't kill me. I want to live on as a pig. When I asked you to kill me, I didn't know what a pig's life would be like. It's great! Just let me go."
The Magic Bowls « Result #6 on Feb 28, 2009, 3:45am »
A dove laid an egg in the hollow of a big tree in front of the blacksmith's house. When she flew away from her nest in search of food, the blacksmith's wife stole the egg. The dove came back to her nest and found the egg missing. The dove knew at once that the blacksmith's wife must have taken it. So she went to the woman and pleaded, "Give me back my egg, please."
The blacksmith's wife pretended that she knew nothing about it and said, "What egg are you talking about? I didn't see any egg." The dove was heartbroken and flew about looking for help. On the way she met a pig, who asked, "Why are you crying, little bird?"
She said, "O pig, can you help me? Will you dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
"No, not I," grunted the pig, walking away.
She then met a hunter, who asked, "Why are you in tears, little bird?"
The bird said, "Will you shoot an arrow at the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
"Why should I? Leave me out of this," said the hunter, walking away.
The dove wept some more and flew on till she met a rat, who also asked why she was in tears. The dove said, "Will you gnaw and cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
The rat too said, "Not I," and went his own way.
Next she met a cat, who asked, "What's the matter, little bird?"
"Will you catch the rat who wouldn't cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
The cat would rather mind her own business.
The poor dove was beside herself with anger and grief. Her wails attracted the attention of a passing dog, who asked her what was bothering her. She said, "Will you bite the cat who wouldn't catch the rat who wouldn't cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
"No, not I," said the dog and ran away.
The dove's wails grew louder and louder.
An old man with a long white beard came that way and asked the crying bird what the matter was. She said, "Grandfather, will you beat the dog who wouldn't bite the cat who wouldn't catch the rat who wouldn't cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
The old man didn't want to do anything of the sort and shook his head and went his way.
The dove next went to the fire for help and asked it to burn the white beard of the old man, but the fire wouldn't do it. Next the dove went to the water and asked it to put out the fire which wouldn't burn the beard of the old man who refused to beat the dog who wouldn't bite the cat who wouldn't catch the rat who wouldn't cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole the egg. Water too was unwilling to help.
Not long afterwards, the dove met an elephant and asked if he would stir up the water which wouldn't put out the fire which refused to burn the beard of the old man who wouldn't . . .
The elephant said, "No, not I."
Then the dove looked about and found a black ant, who also asked her what was troubling her.
"O ant! I know you can help me. Will you go into the elephant's trunk and bite him for not stirring up the water which wouldn't put out the fire which wouldn't burn the beard of the old man who wouldn't beat the dog who wouldn't bite the cat who wouldn't catch the rat who wouldn't cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
"Why not? Here I go," said the ant and crawled inside the elephant's trunk and bit it in the softest place, very hard. This made the elephant dash into the pool of water and stir it up. The water splashed and began to put out the fire, which went mad and burned the white beard of the old man, who beat the dog, who ran after the cat and bit her. The cat caught the rat, who gnawed the bowstring of the hunter's bow. The hunter tied on a new one and shot an arrow at the pig, who went and dug up all the yams of the blacksmith's wife.
The blacksmith's wife knew at once what she had to do and carefully put the dove's egg back in the nest in the hollow of the big tree.
Parwati and the Beggar-Man « Result #7 on Feb 28, 2009, 3:44am »
Once upon a time there was a town called Atpat. In It there lived a Brahman. He had seven daughters, and when they had reached a marriageable age he asked them who would arrange their marriages and bring them handsome husbands and make their fortunes. The six eldest daughters said, "Papa, Papa, you of course. You will arrange our marriages and bring us handsome husbands and make our fortunes for us."
But the youngest daughter was a naughty little girl. She got into a temper all about nothing, and she stamped her foot, and she turned her back on her father and said, "I will arrange my own marriage, and I will get a handsome husband for myself, and I will make my fortune myself." The Brahman was very angry with her, and so how do you think he punished her? He first searched about and found six rich and handsome boys. Then he married them with great pomp and display to his six eldest daughters.
But the youngest girl he gave in marriage to a miserable beggar-man. You never saw such a beggar-man as he was! There was not a spot on his skin that was not black with leprosy, and his feet and hands had rotted right off. If you had seen him you would have said, "If that beggar-man does not die to-day he will certainly die to-morrow. For he cannot possibly live any longer!" When the marriage was celebrated, the little girl's mother filled her lap with wheat and then handed her over to the beggar-man to see what sort of fortune would be hers.
But in a few days the beggar-man died. His corpse was taken to the burning-ground, and his little widow followed it. But when his relatives wanted to burn the body, she forbade them and told them to go away. For she said, "My fortune is still to come, whatever it may be." They all got round her and tried to persuade her that there was no use in her staying by the corpse, but she would not mind what they said. At last they were quite tired out and went home, leaving her in the burning-ground. When they had gone she took her husband's corpse on to her lap. Then she prayed to the god Shiva and said:
"My parents disown me. O why was I born Both as orphan and widow to live all forlorn?"
As she prayed, she put the wheat which her mother had put into her lap grain by grain in the dead man's mouth. Then she sat there crying until midnight. Now it happened that on that very night Shiva and Parwati were in their chariot driving through the air over that very place. Parwati said suddenly to her husband, "I hear a woman crying, let us go and see what it is."
The god Shiva drove his chariot down to earth. He and Parwati got out and saw the Brahman's youngest daughter crying. They asked her what the reason was, and she told them. Then Parwati pitied her and said, "Your aunt has acquired great merit by her piety and devotions. You go to her and get her to give you all her merit and so you will bring your husband back to life." The god Shiva and Parwati then mounted on their chariot and disappeared.
Next morning the little widow left her husband's body, went to her aunt's house and begged her to give her all the merit which she had acquired, and told her the cause of the request. The aunt was very good and gave her all her own merit. The little widow then went back to the burning-ground and with its aid brought her husband back to life. But this time he was no longer a beggar-man black with leprosy and with feet and hands that had rotted away. He was a beautiful young man with well-shaped feet and a beautiful fair skin, and the little widow took her husband back to her father's house.
"Papa, Papa," she said, "you turned me out, but the gods have brought me back, and good fortune came to me without your bringing it." The father was too frightened of Parwati to say anything, so he held his peace. And the little girl and her husband, the beggar-man, lived happily ever afterwards.
From the time each of my children started school, wow power leveling,I packed their lunches. And in each lunch I packed, I included a note. Often written on a napkin, the note might be a thank you for a special moment, a reminder of something we were happily anticipating, or a bit of encouragement for an upcoming test or sporting event. In early grade school they loved their notes-they commented on them after school, and when I went back to teaching, wow power leveling,they even put notes in my lunches. But as kids grow older they become self?conscious, and by the time he reached high school, my older son, Marc, informed me he no longer needed my daily missives. Informing him that they had been written as much for me as for him, and that he no longer needed to read them but I still needed to write them, I continued the tradition until the day he graduated.
Six years after high school graduation, Marc called and asked if he could move home for a couple of months. He had spent those years well, graduating Phi Beta Kappa magna cum laude from college, completing two congressional internships in Washington, wow power leveling,D.C., winning the Jesse Marvin Unruh Fellowship to the California State Legislature, and finally, becoming a legislative assistant in Sacramento. Other than short vacation visits, however, he had lived away from home. With his younger sister leaving for college, I was especially thrilled to have Marc coming home.
A couple weeks after Marc arrived home to rest, regroup and write for a while, he was back at work-he had been recruited to do campaign work. Since I was still making lunch every day for his younger brother, wow gold,I packed one for Marc, too. Imagine my surprise when I got a call from my 24?year?old son, complaining about his lunch.
"Did I do something wrong? Aren't I still your kid? Don't you love me any more, wow gold,Mom?" were just a few of the queries he threw at me as I laughingly asked him what was wrong.
"My note, Mom," he answered. "Where's my note?"
This year my youngest son will be a senior in high school. He, too, has now announced that he is too old for notes. But like his older brother and sister before him,wow gold,he will receive those notes till the day he graduates-and in whatever lunches I pack for him afterwards.
I first heard this story a few years ago from a girl I had met in New York's Greenwich Village.wow power leveling, Probably the story is one of those mysterious bits of folklore that reappear every few years, to be told a new in one form or another. However, I still like to think that it really did happen, somewhere, sometime.
¡¡¡¡They were going to Fort Lauderdalethree boys and three girls and when they boarded the bus, they were carrying sandwiches and wine in paper bags, wow power leveling,dreaming of golden beaches as the gray cold of New York vanished behind them.
¡¡¡¡As the bus passed through New Jersey, they began to notice Vingo. He sat in front of them, dressed in a plain, ill-fitting suit, never moving, his dusty face masking his age. He kept chewing the inside of his lip a lot, frozen into some personal cocoon of silence.
¡¡¡¡Deep into the night, outside Washington, the bus pulled into Howard Johnson's, and everybody got off except Vingo. He sat rooted in his seat, and the young people began to wonder about him, trying to imagine his life: perhaps he was a sea captain, a runaway from his wife, an old soldier going home. When they went back to the bus,wow gold, one of the girls sat beside him and introduced herself.
¡¡¡¡¡°We're going to Florida,¡± she said brightly.¡° I hear it's really beautiful.¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°It is, ¡± he said quietly, as if remembering something he had tried to forget.
¡¡¡¡¡°Want some wine?¡± she said. He smiled and took a swig. He thanked her and retreated again into his silence. After a while, she went back to the others, and Vingo nodded in sleep.
¡¡¡¡In the morning, they awoke outside another Howard Johnson's,and this time Vingo went in. The girl insisted that he join them. He seemed very shy, and ordered black coffee and smoked nervously as the young people chattered about sleeping on beaches.wow power leveling, When they returned to the bus, the girl sat with Vingo again, and after a while, slowly and painfully, he told his story. He had been in jail in New York for the past four years, and now he was going home.
¡¡¡¡¡°Are you married?¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°I don't know.¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°You don't know?¡± she said.
¡¡¡¡¡°Well, when I was in jail I wrote to my wife,¡± he said. ¡° I told her that I was going to be away a long time, and that if she couldn't stand it, if the kids kept asking questions, if it hurt too much, well, she could just forget me, I'd understand. Get a new guy, I saidshe¡®s a wonderful woman,really somethingand forget about me. I told her she didn't have to write me for nothing. And she didn¡®t. Not for three and a half years.¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°And you're going home now, not knowing?¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°Yeah,¡± he said shyly. ¡° Well, last week, when I was sure the parole was coming through, I wrote her again. We used to live in Brunswick, just before Jacksonville, and there's a big oak tree just as you come into town. I told her that if she'd take me back, she should put a yellow handkerchief on the tree, and I'd get off and come home. If she didn't want me, forget itno handkerchief, and I'd go on through.¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°Wow,¡± the girl exclaimed. ¡°Wow.¡±
¡¡¡¡She told the others,wow gold, and soon all of them were in it, caught up in the approach of Brunswick, looking at the pictures Vingo showed them of his wife and three children. The woman was handsome in a plain way, the children still unformed in the much-handled snapshots.
¡¡¡¡Now they were 20 miles from Brunswick, and the young people took over window seats on the right side, waiting for the approach of the great oak tree. The bus acquired a dark, hushed mood, full of the silence of absence and lost years. Vingo stopped looking, tightening his face into the ex-con's mask, as if fortifying himself against still another disappointment.
¡¡¡¡Then Brunswick was ten miles, and then five. wow gold,Then,suddenly, all of the young people were up out of their seats, screaming and shouting and crying, doing small dances of joy. All except Vingo.
¡¡¡¡Vingo sat there stunned, looking at the oak tree. It was covered with yellow handkerchiefs20 of them, 30 of them, maybe hundreds, a tree that stood like a banner of welcome billowing in the wind. As the young people shouted, the old con rose and made his way to the front of the bus to go home.
Having a ready-formed plan « Result #10 on Feb 18, 2009, 1:34am »
there was once an artist whose name was Wen Tong. He was famous for his bamboo drawings.wow power leveling, A lot of people asked him for one of his bamboo drawings.
People wondered why Wen Tong could draw so well. Actually, Wen Tong loved bamboo so much he had grown various bamboo around his house. No matter what season it was and no matter whether it was sunny or rainy,wow power leveling, he used to go to the bamboo forest to observe how they were growing.
He carefully observed the length and breadth of the bamboo poles as well as the shapes and colors of the leaves. Whenever he found something new, he went back to his study and drew what was in his mind on paper. wow power leveling,After a long time, the images of the bamboo in different seasons, under different weather conditions and at different moments were deeply imprinted in his mind. Whenever he stood before the paper and picked up a painting brush,wow gold, various forms of bamboo came into his mind at once. So, every time he was drawing bamboo he appeared confident and at ease. All the bamboo he drew looked like real.
When people spoke highly of his paintings,wow gold,he always said modestly that he had just put the images of the bamboo imprinted in his mind in the paper.
the phrase "having the images of bamboo ready in one's bosom" means having plans or designs ready in one's mind before doing a certain job so that its success is guaranteed. wow gold,It also means being calm and sober-minded in dealing with things.
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