going virtual...

(Lisa Payette/ Jacques Veneruso)

Je cherche l'ombre
Pour danser avec toi mon amour
Sur ces musiques anciennes
qui reviennent en mémoire
Quand le soleil s'éteint et que revient le soir

Je cherche l'ombre
Pour nous mettre à l'abri mon amour
Pour découvir ton corps,
loin de toute lumière
Et pour t'aimer encore comme une étrangère

Je cherche l'ombre
Pour éteindre le feu mon amour
Qui dévore mon âme
et brûle dans mes veines
De ce désir infâme qui en moi se déchaîne

Je cherche l'ombre
Pour pleurer avec toi mon amour
Sur cette vie trop courte
qui file entre nos doigts
Et qui mange les jours en m'éloignant de toi

Je cherche l'ombre

Je cherche l'ombre
Comme on cherche un ami mon amour
Qui nous prendra la main,
sans larmes, sans chagrin
Pour nous conduire ailleurs,
cacher notre bonheur

Cacher notre bonheur

oh no, not another lawyer joke...

A lawyer, a doctor and a pastor were gathered at the deathbed of a rich but dying client. He motioned to them to come closer, and whispered: "You know, in all my years, you three have been the only people I've trusted. I would not like to go down to my grave empty-handed so I'm divvying up my entire life savings between the three of you.... when my coffin is being lowered, please throw in the briefcases containing the money I shall give you." And he proceeded to hand each one of them a briefcase with 10 million kenya shillings.

A few weeks after the funeral, the three men met for lunch. The lawyer confessed: "You know, jst before d-day, my wife had to undergo surgery - i have to admit i withdrew 30% of the funds to cover the expenses - i'm sure bwana tycoon won't mind too much..."

The other two men commiserated.

Then the doctor spoke up: "Yeah, in my case, I have an addiction I wanted to end completely - gambling... I had accumulated humongous debts and had to withdraw 50% of the funds to cover my debts. But it's all history now, I'll never enter a gambling den again, thanks to our good friend. I have learnt my lesson."

The other two listened without a word.

Finally the pastor spoke up: "You know, much as i understand where you two are coming from, I was able to resist temptation. I can honestly say I did my duty - while the coffin was being lowered into the grave, I threw in a cheque for the full amount!"

Become real

The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

Excerpt from
THE
Velveteen Rabbit
OR
HOW TOYS BECOME REAL
by Margery Williams