Alone and buoyant, she jumped on the swing and sang the first song that came in to her head: Papa was a rolling stone/Wherever he lay his hat was his ...ome. On and on, she sang. Her voice rising, the only sound around. She swung higher and higher. The hem of her dress flying open. The breeze caressing her wide open legs, wreaking havoc on her ability to remember the words. She did not much care, as it turns out. It was not just the summer breeze. She suddenly noticed that the swing was rubbing. The room went suddenly still.ONCE UPON A TIME, not so long ago, and certainly not so far you couldn’t walk there from here, there lived a poor fisherman with his two sons, Samson and Simon. Now Samson was a hard worker and obeyed his father in everything he was told to do. He carted fish to market and returned with coins; he mended nets; he rowed the boat while his father fished. He even cooked meals for the three men and saw to it that his brother had clothes and food.Simon, on the other hand. More

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