It was a wet day. The sun was shining. Birds shook off the rain, and chirped to their heart's delight. One song even included several telephone rings.
Atilla gazed at the scene without joy. It was still too wet to go for a walk to the playground. Mum was insistent on that.
He had on his galoshes and play clothes so he could walk in his wet wet garden. Dad had not cut the grass yet, so it was as tall as his knees.
Walking in it was an adventure. He might find a squelchy grapefruit. Or tangelo. Or loquat. Or cat poo.
Promiscuous Empathy: Chris Trotter Replies To His Critics.
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*Inspirational: *The Family of Man* is a glorious hymn to human equality,
but, more than that, it is a clarion call to human freedom. Because
equality, u...
4 hours ago
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