Thursday, July 31, 2008


Hypocrisy is the homage which vice pays to virtue.

La Rochefoucauld, Maxims, 1665

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Counterstatement :)

First thrilling story:

[Tucker Bounds, a] spokesman for Republican presidential candidate John McCain blasted Barack Obama for cancelling plans to visit wounded US soldiers while in Berlin, adding that the Democrat prioritized "throngs of fawning Germans."
Continue here.

Second thrilling:
A German politician has called on US presidential candidate John McCain to take back disparaging remarks made about Germans by his campaign after Barak Obama visited Berlin last week.
Alexander Graf Lambsdorff wrote that he, and the German public, was surprised and dismayed by the comments, according to the newspaper.

Full article here.

Well, being part of the German public I do herewith declare: Mr Lambsdorff does not speak for me. I am neither surprised, nor dismayed.

Mr. Bounds may have missed the bounds of diplomacy, a tiny bit. So what? A subaltern babbler is truthfully babbling what his would-be-president babbled. It's his job, isn't it?

Does anyone know how often this poor soul is being called a stupid mothertucker?
Human beings sometimes are cruel, and do not care about 'No jokes about names'.

It's interesting to see, however, that Mr. Bounds - and thus Mr McCain - some might say: the disabled doter who'd like to succeed the current criminal cretin - obviously would have prefered a demonstration of 'Anti-U.S.Aism'.

Very interesting, indeed. The German public should remember this, in case Mr. McCain once were to visit Germany.

Oh, did I say that Mr. Tucker Bounds did tell nothing but the truth? I watched the faces of Walter Steinmeier, Klaus Wowereit et. al.
Absolutely euphorized, one could say. Or, near an orgasm.
Mr. Bounds prefered other words.

Thus, to end with Robert Frost:
Go on talking,
but don't take
his style away.
It's his face,
may be no good,
but anyway - his face.

Spake Tetrapilotomos: I'd not be surprised if once in Berlin Mr. Bounds would love collecting wet thongs of euphorized German (wo)men.

That's politics.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Verses on a cat

A cat in distress,
Nothing more, nor less;
Good folks, I must faithfully tell ye,
As I am a sinner,
It waits for some dinner
To stuff out its own little belly.

You would not easily guess
All the modes of distress
Which torture the tenants of earth;
And the various evils,
Which like so many devils,
Attend the poor souls from their birth.

Some a living require,
And others desire
An old fellow out of the way;
And which is the best
I leave to be guessed,
For I cannot pretend to say.

One wants society,
Another variety,
Others a tranquil life;
Some want food,
Others, as good,
Only want a wife.

But this poor little cat
Only wanted a rat,
To stuff out its own little maw;
And it were as good
SOME people had such food,
To make them HOLD THEIR JAW!

Percy Bysshe Shelley


Praised be my laziness. It has its advantages. :) When Sunday I happened to read the first news of the bomb attack in Istanbul I intended to write a post but didn't as I was pretty sure that one of the many Turkish 'opinion-tellers' soon would get close to what I am thinking, and thus save me lots of time*.
And, voilà:
It did not take much time for Turkish officials, and even less time for the Turkish media, to put the blame of Sunday evening's deadly blasts on the outlawed Kurdistan Workers' Party, or PKK, terrorist gang. The explosions in Istanbul killed at least 17 people -- five of them children -- and wounded scores of others. Although Istanbul Governor Muammer Güler stressed that investigations were ongoing, he also said the blasts appeared to have been the work of the PKK. It also did not take much for the PKK gang to issue a denial. The pro-PKK Kurdish news agency, Fırat, quoted Zübeyir Aydar, one of the senior chieftains of the gang, as saying that the PKK “has nothing to do with this event … this cannot be linked to the PKK.”

Irrespective of who might actually be behind the deadly Sunday evening attacks, I am confident that sooner or later one of those creative prosecutors – who have successfully demonstrated their rather superb skill in literature with the 2,455-page “Ergenekon indictment” masterpiece – will find a way of incorporating this tragedy among the heinous crimes they believe a cocktail of hardcore leftists, Maoists, Kemalists, patriots, nationalists, ultra-nationalists and fascists have committed with the aim and intention of disrupting public peace and order, creating conditions for a military takeover, or provoking a national outburst and thus getting rid of the elected government of the country.
Full article here.

* Saturday evening I had asked a friend in Turkey to translate a sequence in a Hurriyet article about the 'Ergenekon affair'. She did, after following introducing words which now do again let me chuckle:

You don't mean all 2455 pages but only this article hm? :)
Believe me these silly plays are not worth your giving time.

Monday, July 28, 2008

Well, at least sometimes ...

Is maith an sgathan súil charad.

The eye of a friend is a good looking-glass.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Thanks for the lecture, Mr. Pausch

Since it is not granted to us to live long,
let us transmit to posterity
some memorial that we have at least lived.
Plinius the Younger, Letters
Yesterday while we were celebrating the 84th birthday of my mother(-in-law), Professor Randy Pausch died.

There's much I could write; even wish to write, but why when (almost) everything can be put into six words?

Thanks for the lecture, Mr. Pausch.

More hype than substance

I wonder why so many people who live in fear of the pest would be delighted of the cholera.

Didn't they listen to Mr. Obama's speech(es)? Don't they care who are the self-styled (?) saviour's advisors?

Friday, July 25, 2008

Once, now and tomorrow

War is the statesman’s game, the priest’s delight,
The lawyer’s jest, the hired assassin’s trade,
And to those royal murderers whose mean thrones
Are bought by crimes of treachery and gore,
The bread they eat, the staff on which they lean.

Krieg ist des Staatsmanns Spiel, des Priesters Lust,
Des Richters Scherz, das Handwerk des feilen Meuchlers,
Und für die gekrönten Mordbuben, deren Throne
Durch Verrat und Blut und Frevel jeder Art erkauft,
Ihr täglich Brot, die Stütze ihrer Macht.

Percy Bysshe Shelley, Queen Mab, Canto IV

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Praise of taciturnity

Binn béal 'na chomhnuidhe.

The mouth that speaks not is sweet to hear.

The peace of the night.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Habermas on a "post-secular' society

“Tolerance” is of course not only a question of enacting and applying laws; it must be practiced in everyday life. Tolerance means that believers of one faith and another and non-believers must mutually concede one another the right to those convictions, practices and ways of living that they themselves reject. This concession must be supported by a shared basis of mutual recognition from which repugnant dissonances can be overcome. The required kind of recognition must not be confused with an appreciation of an alien culture and way of living, or of rejected convictions and practices (n18). We need tolerance only vis-à-vis worldviews that we consider wrong and vis-à-vis habits that we do not like. Therefore, the basis of recognition is not the esteem for this or that property or achievement, but the awareness of the fact that the other one is a member of an inclusive community of citizens with equal rights, in which each is accountable to everybody else for her political contributions (n19).

Extract from an essay* presented by Jürgen Habermas at the Istanbul Seminars organized by Reset Dialogues on Civilizations in Istanbul from June 2nd to the 6th 2008.

* A "post-secular" society - what does that mean?

On a personal note:
I intended to offer my Turkish readers a link, so that they could read this essay in their language. To my surprise and regret I could not find one.

It would make sense if the organisators of a 'Dialogue on Civilisations' taking place in Istanbul made the effort to let translate such contributions into Turkish, wouldn't it?

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Obama in Wales: Ich bin ein ...

As everybody knows this year the people of Kuwait, Afghanistan, Iraq, Israel, Jordan, Germany, France and the United Kingdom are to decide who will become the next President of the U.S.A..

This is why Mr Obama is travelling a lot these days, meeting Mr. Karzai, the US-proconsul* in Kabul, Mr. ... oh well, you will know his program.

What you perhaps wouldn't know: It is rumoured that Mr. Obama, by following an advice of the great strategist Zbigniew Brzezinski will not speak in front of the rotten Victory Column in Berlin, but give his eely eloquence a platform in Anglesey.

The name of the historic place is still subject to utmost confidentiality. Only Mr. Obama's most moving last words one of his many right hands was willing to divulge ex ante:

"Ich bin ein Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogocher."

an administrator in a modern colony, dependency, or occupied area usually** with wide powers

** usually, dear readers, usually.

Maniacs won't die off

The title does not refer to Messrs. Ahamadinejahd, Berlusconi, Brzezinski, Bush, Cheney, Gadaffi, Hu, McCain, Mugabe, Obama, Pofalla, Putin, any scalpers, masters of Monsanto & Co., members of any sect, secret and/or surveillance service etc. etc..

However, in case any person mentioned above feels fancy to feel addressed by the title: Very welcome.

And in case anybody misses her/his name and/or the name of her/his organisation: Just let me know, and your name will immediately be added.

End of the beforegoing.

Actually, the title does nothing but mirror the dominating thought while I was reading this article.

Set book for good people

You are sure you'd never (be able to) commit atrocities? I am not.
[Hannah; sj] Arendt's phrase 'the banality of evil' continues to resonate because genocide has been unleashed around the world and torture and terrorism continue to be common features of our global landscape. We prefer to distance ourselves from such a fundamental truth, seeing the madness of evildoers and senseless violence of tyrants as dispositional characters within their personal makeup. Arendt's analysis was the first to deny this orientation by observing the fluidity with which social forces can prompt normal people to perform horrific acts.
One passage in Philip Zimbardo's book The Lucifer Effect: Understanding how good people turn evil (the title of the German edition, published this month, reads: Der Luzifer-Effekt: Die Macht der Umstände und die Psychologie des Bösen.
Instead of writing a review, I do recommend by following the links above to develop your opinion on your own.
One tip, though: don't miss the offered quotations; afterwards - the more in case you did not happen to hear about the Stanford Prison Experiment - you might like to visit Professor Zimbardo's homepage and afterwards hardly can await Monday morning so that you can hurry to the bookshop round the corner and order the book.

Yes, I am aware of that the effect would almost be the same were my recommendation addressed to the birds which right now are sleeping in the trees. :)
Who'd read such book, anyway?
Some scientists? - Fine.
Those who for almost all their life have been trying (sic!) to understand how (good?) people (get) turn(ed) evil? - Fine.
And who else? - Quite!
Or does anybody think that any leader(s) of any state will make "The Lucifer Effect" a set book for their people, at least for all those who want to join the armed forces?

The Peace of the Night!

Saturday, July 19, 2008


Rather than reading this at Internation Musing, watching the voyeur in the photo made me think that there exists a certain likeness between anonymous commenters and burqa wearers.

Friday, July 18, 2008

Cage as Cage could

As everyone knows July 5th was 'Changing of the Tone' in Halberstadt. Just in case you happened not to be amongst those round about 1.000 connoisseurs in St Burchardi who all excitedly earwitnessed the thrilling moment, and therefore feel inconsolable: the spheric sound will not change until - remember, remember! - the 5th of November.
So when arriving on November 4th you will be able to kill two b ... ahem ... to hear two tones of the John-Cage-project ORGAN² ASLSP within 24 hours.

Well, and in cage case you can't get enough, what about booking one of the remaining 631 years? Personally, I intended to book the year 2525, but then I thought I should retreat in favour of Zager and Evans. Since I have been ranging between 2632 and 2320, the more as 2639 is already sold, but right now I think I shall ask them to offer 2640. I'd really like listening to the silence, after 639 years.

In honour of John Cage I have been writing this post though not as slowly as possible, but at least very very slowly.
And I am quite sure that not only those amongst you who can't read fast will appreciate my gesture.

PPS: For those who wish to buy one or more of the words above: There will soon be a price-list available.

PPPS: Solvent Omnium-lovers who wish to book one or more posts to be published from October onwards, with immediate effect can offer their bids. Just don't be shy - bid high.

Monday, July 14, 2008

Bitter for Mr. Vitter

As everybody knows 219 years ago a few French stormed the Bastille because they were sick to death of their king and wanted to get what they deserved. 15 years later they got an emperor.
For sure a grand reason for a national holiday.

I could go on and on praising the French and their (sic) revolution*, but ... sorry ... right now I wonder
what has happened to the famous David Vitter, who almost exactly one year ago claimed 'he had asked for and received forgiveness from God and his wife - undoubtedly the greatest story for the past 2020 or even 10.000 years, which the BBC gave away though, by mentioning it in a subordinate clause.

Well, googling 'Vitters, prostitute ring, trial', and voilà ha ha ha ... so ho ho ho rry ... hardly ca ha ha han't write.

Help yourself.

Back? And? Isn't this a most touching photo? And wouldn't you say: Yes, this is undoubtedly an intelligently designed couple?

What I cannot entirely understand: As Mr. Vitters has already received forgiveness by Mr. and Mrs. God - and who would doubt his words? -, why would there be an earthly trial? Isn't God any longer boss in his own country?

*French Revolution: another term for replacing a king by an emperor

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Not by Dafydd ap Gwilym :)

Good Night

GOOD NIGHT? ah! no; the hour is ill
Which severes those it should unite;
Let us remain together still
Then it will be a good night

How can I call the lone night good,
Though thy sweet wishes wing its flight
Be it not said, thought, understood,
That it will be good night.

To hearts which near each other move
From evening close to morning light,
The night is good; because, my love,
They never say good-night.

Percy B. Shelley

Friday, July 11, 2008

Just so

Voilà, in case anybody's interested in what German newspapers focused on in their feuilletons, this week.

I'll focus on my dreams.

The Peace of the Night

Summits of pleasure

"It was nice to see you", said the deaf to the blind.

"The pleasure's all mine. You were a wonderful listener."

Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Wednesday, July 09, 2008

No joke here

Seems every blogger, regardless if woman or man is posting jokes today.

To make a difference, here's reality news.
This morning, near the graveyard I stumbled into a young man, or rather he hastened into me. Last time we met - it must have been late February, or so - he had just finished his studies for the teaching profession and got taught there's no need for him as a teacher.

The more delighted I was to see him smiling and in the best mood.

After both we had murmured our 'Sorry', he recognised me.

"Ah, Sean."

"An espresso at Vincenzo's?' I asked.

"Would be great, but I'm in a hurry."

"I see. What's her name?"

"Sorry, but ..." And off he speeded. All I could understand from what he shouted over his shoulder: "... 'll ... you ... ail."

Five minutes ago I received an email:

sorry about this mornings' hurry.
There was a very important press conferance at the chemistry. They are going to have an 'Open Door Day'. With bouncing castle for the kids and many more attractive sensations.

Imagine, Sean. End of March I'd not hardly know how to spell shornalyst, and only three months later I happen to be one. I could huck the whole world. Shornalism is the most wonderfull profashion in the world.

But now I have to stop. I am in hurry. In ten minutes I have to email the article (220 lines) to the lady owner, for authorisation.

In hurry,
Yours ...

Well, what can I say. I am so happy for the young chap. It's not easy to find a job in these times.

Every baby will be delighted

Every German citizen should have the right to vote in national elections, even those under the age of 18, says a group of parliamentarians. They've proposed a law that would allow parents to vote for their children.

In case anyone does feel the wish to continue, voilà, here you are.

As I am determined to spend this day far from the madding crowd I shall not comment on mad crowds' proposals.

There is but one tiny word attracting my attention.

Did your eyes detect it, too?

Right. Every.

And what does every mean? ... Correct: Every.

So, what's the following? ... Rubbish?

Well, I'd not go as far.
Let's agree to that the whole article consequently lacks of sense.

How could any accident like this
ever happen? What's amiss?

Frankly, I don't know, as to my knowledge only the brightest brains would nowadays get offered the chance of trying to become a journalist and, after a 6*-education only the
crème de la crème of these brightest brains would ...

Hm ...

hm ...

why would I suddenly think of the White House?

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Mission truthfully accomplished

Isn't it strange that sometimes we would feel embarrassed for people we do not even know? Only this afternoon it happened to me again.
Having un espresso doppio at Vicenco's I was forced to hear a dialogue between two strange looking men who may praise the fact they were another weight category than me.
What they said, was so disgusting that - truth be told - I'd never ever speak about, had there not been a voice speaking to me the other moment: Sean, write it down. Word by word. Share it with the blogosphere!

Well, so be it. This is what I heard:
It is well known that children and drunkards always are telling the truth, isn't it?

No soul that would not know this.

That is why it is hard to understand why the White House would apologize for telling the truth about Silvio Berlusconi, distributed in a press-kit at the so-called G8-summit.

Egads! They apologied for telling the truth?

Aye. Basically they said: Sorry, dear Silvio, for insulting you by telling the truth.

Who said so?

Spokesman Toni Fratto.

Ha ha, Toni Fratto?

Not all descendants from Italian immigrants would work for the US-Mafia.

Well, when you can get a job in the firm of the bigger rival organisation. Anyway, back to the apology. Seems like all alcoholics they did regret the morning after. Why would the White House employ a bunch of alcoholics?

Presidential order? After all, like will to like.

Wait. George Walker Bush does not drink a drop since he had an audience with his god. It's insulting to call him an alcoholic.

Who would doubt that Mr. Bush jr. stopped boozing his brain out of his head after the mission was accomplished. However, it's no insult to call him an alcoholic. Once an alcoholic, forever an alcoholic. Ask your doctor. Your doctor will also be able to tell you that alcoholics use to meet the strangest people in delirium tremens.

In this moment I got up and went home. Can't tell you, dear readers, how embarrassed I felt.

Monday, July 07, 2008

Surely pure coincidence

Why would a director of a German institute for Turkish studies, Faruk Şen and
Britain's first Muslim Minister, Shahid Malik, within a couple of weeks basically say "The Turks are the new Jews of Germany' respectively "The muslims are the Jews of Britain"?

Pure coincidence?

Iran: Mullahs banned from mosques*

Tehran - Iranian clerics have been banned from appearing in prayer rooms and mosques because they are said to promote a culture of fear and intolerance, according to the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance.

The measure was announced on Monday and reported by Iran's official news agency Irna.

Ali Reza Karimi, director of the ministry's press and disinformation department, said the ban included the use of Iranian clerics with overseas Farsi language satellite networks.

He urged to respect the ruling to safeguard what he calls national dignity.

Ah, sorry, this is the news of another day.

But now:
Tehran, 7 July (AKI) - Iranian artists and athletes have been banned from appearing in commercials because they are said to promote a culture of consumerism, according to the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance.
Continued here.

* Sorry. Just noticed that the check-correct-title- surveillance failed. The responsible person was immediately sentenced to ten seconds of severest swear-boarding.

Sunday, July 06, 2008

I by Dafydd ap Gwilym

What a weekend. 39 hours ago I intended to write some light-hearted posts, but then, in the deepest den of my heart suddenly the snakes Irony and Sarcasm woke up - or rather were awaken - and since they were darting, trying to lure my fingers to squirt their venom via keyboard into the blogosphere. And no one and nothing able to becalm these creatures.
My quest to withstand the tempters seemed almost lost, when while I was watching her an Irish seagull whispered* to me: Dafydd ap Gwilym.

And immediately both snakes cuddled close, coiled up, fell smilingly asleep, and I knew: It's over - for this time.
Fair seagull on the tide, of a colour indeed
with the snow or the white moon,
your beauty is clear as a piece of the sun,
or a glove of shining crystal salt!
Lightly over the spreading fertile ocean
swiftly the bird flies fishing.
Sea-lily, together we will go,
hand in hand beyond the horizon:
for you are my only letter to her,
pure white and lying like a nun
in the trough of the waves of the sea.
Go where you see the shape of camp and castle,
where the fame of woman is: there will
your fame, my messenger, be spread. 
Look seagull and see,
a maid of light in shining castle,
give her this summons in my words ...
let her choose me!
Go to her now! Let it be she!
With this bold welcome be cunning
with the gentle creature.
Be my fine messenger and tell her
unless I can have her I shall die:
I am her lover and sad is my condition.
O men! Was there ever such a loving!
Did Merlin feel desire hotter,
Taliesin love a lovelier girl?
Mixed yellow grain falling on copper,
excellence on excellence! O seagull
if you see the loveliest human cheek
in christendom .... I tell you
unless I have some kindly word from her,
this girl will be the ending of me!

* :) Yes, dear readers, there do exist whispering seagulls. All you need is silence. :) Well, and a little fantasy. In case you don't believe me, just ask your children ... 

Friday, July 04, 2008

I might be out tonight

Ladies and gentlemen,
Bayanlar, Baylar,

Signoras e Signori,

Señoras y Señores,

Mesdames et Messieurs, :)

just to make sure none of you is going to get worried.
In case there's no (other) post tonight, I'll be sitting in Mr. Morrell's virtual dwelling, enjoying a talk about arts, and thus getting my horizon widened.

Whoever feels fancy to join us, is most welcome.

All others who think they have better things to do, I do wish a pleasant start into the weekend :)

Thursday, July 03, 2008


There's an essay to be found at God-Free-Morals.
Read it, and dare you not to have your say.

May I ask for your kind attention, please.

Although my esteemed reader latest on reading the title, will easily have detected this is not my style I want to assure:

Only in order to have some piece and quiet I followed ... hm ... an advice - mind you, not obeyed a command) in the comment section to the previous post.

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Is 'Finnegans Wake' a Novel?

- Which was said by whem to whom?

- It wham. But whim I can't whumember.

- Fantasy! funtasy on fantasy, amnaes fintasies! And there is nihil nuder under the clothing moon. When Ota, weewahrwificle of Torquells, bumpsed her dumpsydiddle down in her woolsark she mode our heuteyleutey girlery of peerlesses to set up in all bombossities of feudal fiertey, fanned, flounced and frangipenned, while the massstab whereby Ephialtes has exceeded is the measure, simplex mendaciis, by which our Outis cuts his truth. Arkaway now!

- Yerds and nudes say ayes and noes. Vide! Vide!

- Let Eivin bemember for Gates of Gold for their fadeless suns berayed her. Irise, Osirises! By thy mouth given unto thee! For why do you lack a link ...

More according the link later. :)

The passage above you'd find on page 493 when - as I did - randomly opening the Faber edition from 1975, which I typed to give those amongst you who would not read Finnegans Wake once a week a glimpse of what it's about.

Now being a Joyce expert, what's your answer to the question which is heading this post?

Careful, though.
Of course, for those contemporaries delectating themselves with mocking that poor Joyce would have written like Flann O'Brien had he not been completely ding-dong, the answer is easy.
However, is it? What will be the likely criteria to say or even enthusiastically shout 'Yes, it is!' or after a demonstrative yawn to groan in agony: 'No!' ?

Whatever the answer will be, it is a matter of taste. An excellent taste, of course. :)

And either one says 'Yes' or 'No', (s)he will claim to be in possession of the most exquisite taste.

Now, this could create one of those brainteasing and riddling conundrums, the more as ... what did Oscar say? About taste you can't argue; either you have it, or you have it not.

Who is right, then?

End of the beforegoing.

Let me rather create the above mentioned link.

Chris, philosopher and poet at Godfree-Morals has posted a - to my taste :) - remarkable essay. Indeed, it's an essay that I
could not have written, not even if I did not happen to be ding-dong.

n the hope to create a vivid exchange of ideas, both a suggestion and a request: The discussion should take place at Chris' site, so that one can read it in one piece.

PS: For those
finding this subject as interesting as the breaking news that there has been a cucumber glass detonation in Caracas: Do as if you had never read this post.
After all, it's a matter of taste, isn't it. :)

All others: Enjoy.

XIII by Dafydd ap Gwilym

Sitting - no, not under a birch - under this hazel, listening to the late afternoon's silence I thought it would be nice to welcome July with another poem by Dafydd ap Gwilym.

I have learned to carry on my nimble love boldly in secret, not in public like a boor: but now is the time to celebrate my secret love with fitting words.

The man who languishes and loves in secret loves best of all: when she and I (vain couple!) walked among crowds we talked so pleasantly together but none guessed our answers. For a long while we embraced and played at being outlaws for a joke, but now we must move with strictest secrecy because of evil tales and a foul tongue that destroys us with such stories, putting a slanderous stain on our innocent names with his words. We were proud of our care in keeping our love hidden, and I believed and worshipped under the young leaves where my golden love was. There was sweet opportunity and a pleasant life for us under the leaves of the young birch-trees.

Pleasant it was to keep our secret, hid
ing and adoring in the wood; to wander on the shore of the sea, or stay within the boundaries of the wood; to plant birch-trees, or weave the plumage of the wood in patterns; to tell my love to the slim girl or stand with her and look out over solitary meadows.

Going to the woods with her lover is a
fine way for a girl to pass the day, there to sit silent or suddenly smiling, laugh lip to lip. So we took our pleasure together in the groves of the wood, avoiding all people, sharing our complaints or drinking mead together, or making love or lying still .... keeping our love hidden. That was a perfect time .... more than "perfect" I can say nothing.