"I heard you go to Missy's room an' get thrown out," she said with a giggle. I smacked her bare bottom lightly."Shame on you," I said. "Let's go in he...e." I led her to the stable and found my blanket roll. Then we climbed to the loft. I spread out the gray blanket and she sat on it while I undressed. Touching Magda's knife reminded me of the loft where we had loved a long time ago, almost five years before. This war seemed endless."Missy's right," Mercy said very quietly when we finally lay. On the "Romantic Period" of the Erotic Renaissance. Bad enough we've all forgotten how to write a real letter and now rely on email shorthand, short-stroking the English language to get half-witted, ill-considered, stillborn thoughts onto our blogs so that other idiots can respond before they think about it too much.Am I being too hard on blogs? U2 is communicating to me personally via Twitter, Bono asking me why the hell I'm not in Bulgaria protesting illegal logging. Paris Hilton invited me. More

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