The brunette took long strides to the office building, stopping only momentarily as she did every morning, to hand her newspaper to the homeless man that begged for change on the corner.

"Hey, tall lady, why the long face?" he said with a toothless smile.

Keefer frowned as she turned to look at the dirty man. You think you got problems? Snap out of it. "Just thinking bad thoughts," she offered him a big smile in return.

"Oh, now there's a beautiful face," he grinned. "Thank you, ma'am," he held up the paper and bowed his head.

"Welcome," she returned her attention to the street and entered the skyscraper.

"DAILY NEWS, 50 CENTS" he shouted.

One of the men in blue was busy watching the Mercedes roadster
with the top down that was doubled parked. It was a toss up as to which got more looks, the car or the woman who drove it.
On a reporter's salary alone, Kay probably couldn't have afforded a nice bicycle much less the pretty import, but she had married well.

"Are you just fishing for an exclusive?" asked Sydney.

"Would I do that, baby?"

"Yes, I think that's the only reason you live with me sometimes."

"You wound me, lover, but I'll let it slide since I do what I must so New Orleanians can get the news."

The lady should be bottled and sold as a secret weapon.

You can't create in a vacuum. You have to know where you've been so you can move into uncharted waters.

Which person are we talking about? The one you are or the one you pretend to be?

I conclude from this that once again you have been using you famous tact and diplomacy on individuals in the greater world.

Awww, that's all you're going to say? I left myself wide open. Tch, you're slipping kid. Maybe I need to get you a sign that says, 'Insert sarcasm here.'

Don't knock the weather Laura, nine out of ten people couldn't start a conversation if it didn't change once in a while.

PROLOGUE

It was an ordinary Monday morning in July, and she scarcely took notice of the people around her as she leaned against the metal pole in the center of the subway car. Her briefcase was secured in one hand, the Daily News folded in half length-wise and held up in front of her face with the other. It was seven-thirty a.m., the height of rush hour, and eighty early morning commuters filled every seat and pressed against her in the narrow aisle. She had thirty blocks to ride underground to her destination.

She had given up trying to drink coffee during the trip; she had ruined one too many suits while trying to manage a cup amidst the jostling crowds. Had she stopped to purchase her usual fare of espresso-spiked French roast, she would have taken a different train. Sometimes five minutes can change the course of a lifetime.

"Damn driver's gonna shake us all to death," someone nearby grumbled.

"Excuse me, sorry," her pole-mate mumbled for the third time after losing his balance and stumbling into her.

"No problem," she murmured, lowering her paper and glancing through the thick, scratched glass of the sliding double doors opposite her. Shadows of vertical concrete supports and the gaping mouths of dark recesses flew by quickly in the dimly lit tunnel. Too quickly. When the businessman next to her lurched into her once again, she tucked the newspaper under her arm, pressed the briefcase to her chest with an elbow, and grasped the pole with both hands. The car rocked heavily, and she had to spread her feet to keep her balance. She glanced forward the length of the car and realized that everyone else was having difficulty staying upright, too. Her pulse quickened as she fought to steady herself. The train went into a curve and seemed to tilt up on one side. Over the noise of her own heart pounding erratically in her ears, she heard the reassuring squeal of the brakes being applied. Nothing to worry about.

That was her last conscious thought before the world turned upside down amidst the sounds of rending metal and helpless humanity. Then there were only fragments of words and dizzying images and jostled movements that catapulted her in and out of consciousness, until finally reality coalesced into a blinding light in her eyes and a crimson roar of pain in her head. She struggled to sit up, but just the slight movement she was able to manage caused a new agony in her right leg to surge upward and force the air from her lungs with its terrible intensity. Forcing her eyes open despite the piercing glare, she found herself looking into a huge silver disk with a hot white bulb in its center suspended over her head. Almost instantaneously, she realized that her arms were tied down. Then she began to hear voices, strident tones forming half-sentences and clipped short-hand phrases.

Closed head injury...open tib-fib fracture...

Somebody call the O. R.…another one coming up...

Type and cross her...four units...

We need a CT of the chest and abdomen…STAT...

Fighting down the pain, she gathered all her strength and tried to speak. "What... oh... where am..." Suddenly, a silhouette swam into her field of vision, backlit by the bright light, and she tried unsuccessfully to focus. "Please…"

Gentle hands restrained her as a deep, calm voice spoke. "You were in an accident. You're at Bellevue. Can you tell me your name?"

She tried to shape the sounds of her name but they floated away from her on a new wave of anguish. She continued to stare upward, dimly aware of fingers brushing over her face. Finally, features began to emerge from the shadows above her, giving her something to cling to in the sea of confusion and pain. A face bending near-blue eyes, so dark they were almost purple, intense and penetrating. Black hair, thick and unruly, escaping from beneath the band of a surgeon's cap that slashed across a strong broad forehead. Prominent cheekbones and a bold, nearly masculine jaw.

"You're going to be fine."

She had no choice but to deliver herself into those confident unwavering eyes-and to believe.

**************************************

and the rest is here: http://www.amazontrails.com/fiction/passionsbrightfury.htm

So we went to the concert yesterday, my girl and me. Valerij Meladze was visiting Vilnius, so we thought why not. And the impression I was left with was that Meladze is more a pub singer, more a restaurant singer than a big-hall singer. The way he interacts with the public, the way he talks and behaves, it's too intimate for halls of thousands of people.
I spent a good deal of time spying his techies, so I could see real time what the concert is about. How one operates lighting equipment, soundboard and camera. The first thing to say was the the sound operator was just about terrible at the beginning. Too much bass and too little vocals, so the singer has just drowned in the noise of bass guitars and strings. It got a little better as the evening went by, but my girl there was furious beyond herself about the quality. Even more then we had another recent concert to compare to, Filip Kirkorov with his Stockaya girl. Like oil and water. A huge difference.
Still I have good memories. It was fun.

I don't have too much time for pc games, but this is my favourite one when I steal a second. I enjoy it very much, as I did Age of Empires, which is my another fav.

I rather liked this new road sign. a perfect mixture of lord of the rings and the modern world.

Sometimes reality is better than a cold shower.

A little spontaneity and mischief are good for the soul.

Curiosity killed the cat, you know.

If it weren't for bad luck, they'd have no luck at all.

Okay, okay, I got it. More charming, less alarming.

Takes one to know one.

Part of being friends is letting people keep their secrets.

- Come on, Farmer, don't be so sodding smug. Anyone'd think you've just discovered it for womankind and planted a flag or something. Hon, I don't have to try to say anything about your politeness... or the lack thereof. It's common knowledge that you're as uncivilized as they come.
- But you love me anyway, dontcha? I added in an egoistical tone to which she snorted in mock disgust.
- Get off your high horse, woman!

Lay down your sweet and weary head
Night is falling
You have come to journey's end

Sleep now
Dream-of the ones who came before
They are calling from across a distant shore

Why do you weep
What are these tears upon your face
Soon you will see
All of your fears will pass away

Safe in my arms you're only sleeping

What can you see on the horizon
Why do the white gulls call
Across the sea a pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home

And all will turn to silver glass
A light on the water all souls pass

Hope fades into the world of night
Through shadows falling out of memory and time

Don't say we have come now to the end
White shores are calling
You and I will meet again

And you'll be here in my arms just sleeping

What can you see on the horizon
Why do the white gulls call
Across the sea a pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home

And all will turn to silver glass
A light on the water
Grey ships pass into the west

Time has come, what's done is done
It's time to move on
To another place, another space, maybe circling some other sun
Don't ask why, don't ask how
I still can't explain
To say goodbye, goodbye for now till I see you again

In the sunlight that's where I'll be
In the moon night close your eyes, you will see me
In the sunrise in the twilight I'll be the morning and the evening star
I will be there with you wherever you are

Life is strange, such joy and pain
The betrayal and the kiss
It maybe meant to be, maybe destiny
Leads us down a path like this
Child is born, true love is sworn
All the in-between
Well you just walk on, walk on until the path is gone
Learning love is the only everything

So it's goodnight, things go wrong
but it's alright
We're all just passin' through here
At the speed of light