Rano

Just to say I've started to read this story ... As a result of a nice "fluke". Was checking e-mail after lunch and amongst the few new messages one from GA re. some R. Eric having updated a story - I hardly ever open these kind of mails, but this Sunday I did. Zoomed into your "resume" of stories and, well, was quite chaffed at the titles and short "summaries." Then my eyes caught this one, and noticed it was completed (I just HATE starting a story and then have to wait for ages plus an extra few days for good measure...) The title caught my attention and decided to download all five chapters for a quick read. My of my, was I ever so pleasantly surprised to realise just how long most of the chapters are! When I've finished reading your introductory paragraph, I just had interrupt myself to compliment you on a job well done. Whether you've done so intentionally, I don't know, but you've arrested my attention. Well done, I can't wait to withdraw and continue this prommising tale...

The closing two paragraphs have me confused. Had to read it a few times to get a handle on the broader context So, Sergei is a "spirit" as well? Quite some cliffhanger you leave a person with - well, me at least. Looking forward to see what you have up the sleeves. Just wondering if Neal is some kind of "Sixth Sense" chappy who finds it difficult to distinguish between reality and the other world? Just to get back to the closing paragraphs, it left me with an eerie, foreboding feeling... Looking forward to see how you are going to develop this tale.

Definitely hooked by this intro-chapter. Likes Eddie's voice, and can't prolong to see how the relationship between him Daniel is going to develop...And that askance reference to when he was 14 years ild . hmmm something happened...Anyway, got some further reading to do

Are you gonna visit the Louvre?

analogy

detergent

heh heh What?

Amongst all my books and clutter in my studio/study/library, I keep an assortment of Functional Files (something I'm doing since school days some donkey years ago aka scrapbooks) labeled according to different categories. Inside these files are pictures galore. When I feel especially moved by something (i.e. a story that I've read here at GA) I'll spread out pictures on what I call my sorting desk and mull over them, mix and match, just driving myself crazy while doing scans of compositions and so on and so forth. When the muse strikes, I'll paint or write about what I've assembled together. Oh, one last thing; I'm never-ever without my Kodak 5X, attached to my hip - except for when I'm in bed

If I want to do that, should I?

lover

zealot

Who is of the opinion that living there is horrifying?

elocution

nurturing

fusspot