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Sunday, April 25, 2004


Honey B: "So, what's up with your blog?"

Me: "Are you in Cyprus at the moment Missy?" I shift the telephone receiver slightly away from my ear. She has a loud voice.

HB: "Might as well not be, for all the shit that's going down."

Me: "That's a trite harsh. What do you mean? It was hardly a big surprise. The Greek Cypriots have done this before. Stuck two fingers up at popular opinion. Good for them."

HB: "You were positively in tears last night. What's up?"

Me: "Beginning to accept what I knew all along. Reality has set in. Who was ever going to be radical enough to prove me wrong?"

HB: "Big-head."

Me: "Besides a forced settlement would have cracked somewhere down the line, sooner or later. Remember a little thing called history? You can't force the Greek Cypriots to be bed-buddies or keep reminding them of your family members they massacred. Death shouldn't be a cliché or used as often as one."

HB: "So, about the blog?"

Me: "Yeah, I know, it's taken a funny turn, but it goes where it will. When the time's right you'll get an answer to your question."

HB: "Wanna go somewhere for dinner tonight?"

Me: "Yeah, how about that Italian I told you about on the South?"

HB: "Sure. Does she do threesomes?"

Me: "That's old Missy. They have that carved in the caves at Lascaux, France."

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