.. SLAP! No words, just the sound of flesh on flesh. Let it out! every slap seems to say. Let it out! .... Let it out! .... Let it out! Your breathing...starts to adjust to rhythm ... your life adjusts to rhythm, the world adjusts to the rhythm. The world IS the rhythm. Let it out! ..... Let it out! ..... Let it out! Your butt is glowing and your body swings from left to right within the limit space of movement your have. Your head hangs down, your arms seem to be torn from your shoulders. SLAP!. He was ready for Oxford, had been ready even before their hasty departure with Antoine years ago.Merle Heathcoate, Master Printer, read the sign board outside the shop where Father’s cousin had his establishment. His print shop occupied most of the ground floor. On the second floor were the kitchen and quarters of the printer and his wife Geraldine, plus an unoccupied room to be shared by Amélie and Sandrine. It would not have been proper for the two to live with strangers. Once inside, she. More

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