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You might want to learn about this, How we make a palace of the hovel of our joys. The world keeps within its folds each treasured blueprint and you will only see them spread in a passing movement: How that child's face falls as you are revealed, incapable of understanding imaginary spires and drawbridges closing, barbicans of desire. Just walls instead, and you riding naked before them, lips smeared with ash, your mount angry with incomprehension and a saddle hobbed, cruel beneath your thighs. Enfiladed, oil and molten lead, bolts and arrows invisible, sighing about you. You'll easily counter it, of course, with your armour. Your rigid, fibrous heart crashing in your chest. Caleb Cluff Majorca, VIC. 27/02/07 ============================================================================== The information contained in this email and any attachment is confidential and may contain legally privileged or copyright material. It is intended only for the use of the addressee(s). If you are not the intended recipient of this email, you are not permitted to disseminate, distribute or copy this email or any attachments. If you have received this message in error, please notify the sender immediately and delete this email from your system. The ABC does not represent or warrant that this transmission is secure or virus free. Before opening any attachment you should check for viruses. The ABC's liability is limited to resupplying any email and attachments ==============================================================================