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Philip Larkin Poems
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Philip Larkin Poems
For the first time, Faber publish a selection from the poetry of Philip Larkin. how many poets make us laugh - or, in that curious phrase, "laugh out loud" (as if there's another way of doing it)? Larkin, often, is more than memorable: he is instantly unforgettable.' - Martin Amis
Leaving aside the untimeliness and misery of it, there is something fitting in the fact that Philip Larkin's death came on the 2nd of December, as another Christmas closed in. The quasi-Pagan season of goodwill combines three of Larkin's greatest dislikes: social gatherings, family gatherings and expenditure. 'On the whole I felt pretty depressed over Christmas, & spent some time labelling packages for my executors,' he wrote to a friend post-Christmas in 1961, at the age of 39, adding that the 'ghastly' festival makes 'life seem blacker & bleaker and generally more savourless.' Two years later the pessimism had deepened: 'And now Christmas is coming again,' he wrote to the novelist Barbara Pym on the 7th of December, 'as if we hadn't enough to put up with. It's nearly enough to extinguish the low solstitial flame of life – and will, one of these years.' In a letter of January 1967 to the same friend he dismissed it simply as 'vile'.
Larkin's passing 29 years ago portended the death a quarter of a century later of one of his greatest admirers, Christopher Hitchens. The two had much in common: both died of oesophageal cancer in their early 60s after a lifetime of smoking and drinking; both were prolific writers who dominated their fields; and both dabbled in homosexuality during their younger and more rugged years before moving on to mostly unsatisfactory heterosexual relationships in middle age.
For Larkin, the most persistent failed romance was with a woman named Monica Jones. In his review of Letters to Monica, a collection of the couple's correspondence, Hitchens describes Larkin and Jones' four-decade relationship as 'distraught and barren' and the female half of it as 'an evidently insufferable yet gifted woman who was a constant friend and intermittent partner (one can barely rise to saying 'mistress' let alone 'lover')' and who, despite Larkin's infrequent infidelity and unbending aversion to marriage, stayed with Larkin until his death in 1985.
Monica and marriage are two of the three Ms that stalked Larkin most consistently. Writing to number one about number two in 1966 (after his unfaithfulness had come painfully to light while the couple were on holiday) he said, 'it's my own unwillingness to give myself to anyone else that's at fault – like promising to stand on one leg for the rest of one's life.' The ability to reduce some of man's most cherished acts and institutions to a witty and withering analogy was one of Larkin's greatest gifts. Sex: 'like trying to get someone else to blow your nose for you'. Religion: 'That vast moth-eaten musical brocade / Created to pretend we never die'. Weddings: 'The women shared / The secret like a happy funeral'. Work: 'Its hunkers are heavy as hard luck, / And cold as snow'. Socialising: 'Are, then, these routines / Playing at goodness, like going to church?'
The most important point to make about Larkin, though, and one that is evident in Poems Selected by Martin Amis, is that the similes – and the poems – are as often beautiful and optimistic as they are bleak and upsetting. 'Who else', Amis asks in his introduction, 'takes us, and takes us so often, from sunlit levity to mellifluous gloom?' The answer is: nobody. 'And let it be emphasised', Amis adds, 'that Larkin is never 'depressing'.'
When I picked up Martin Amis' collection of Larkin's poems in a bookshop one day at the age of 27 I'd read neither the poet nor the collector, but had read plenty of the aforementioned Hitchens. The web of genius is as follows: Martin Amis and Christopher Hitchens were best friends; the novelist Kingsley Amis, Martin's father, was close friends with Philip Larkin. The penultimate poem of the collection, 'Letter to a Friend about Girls' (published posthumously, at Larkin's request) is addressed to Amis Sr.:
After comparing lives with you for years
I see how I've been losing: all the while
I've met a different gauge of girl from yours.
Larkin, naturally, did not establish the same kind of intimacy with Amis Jr., but the two did have a priceless exchange, which Martin records in his introduction, about Larkin's newly purchased car:
'You should spend more, Philip. No, really. You've bought the car, and that's good. Now you—'
'I just wish they wouldn't keep on sending me all these bills.'
'Well it costs a bit to run a car.'
'I just wish they wouldn't keep sending me all these bills.'
Here we have the third and final melancholy M: money.
I listen to money singing. It's like looking down
From long French windows at a provincial town,
The slums, the canal, the churches ornate and mad
In the evening sun. It is intensely sad.
Born in 1922, Larkin emerged from the penury of post-war rationing with a tendency to agonise over even the most modest outlay. It is an anguish that pervades Amis' choices, culminating with the above, titled simply and unhappily 'Money'.
If you, dear reader, perhaps unaware of Philip Larkin, are considering which of his books of poetry is worth the money you make 'from wasting your life on work' (to paraphrase 'Self's the Man'), I recommend this one. Far from making you 'intensely sad', it will leave you feeling, as Larkin writes in 'Coming',
like a child
Who comes on a scene
Of adult reconciling,
And can understand nothing
But the unusual laughter,
And starts to be happy.
Collected Poems
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Collected Poems
Since its publication in 1988, Philip Larkin's Collected Poems has become essential reading on any poetry bookshelf.
The Whitsun Weddings
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The Whitsun Weddings
Philip Larkin (1922-1985) remains England's best-loved poet - a writer matchlessly capable of evoking his native land and of touching all readers from the most sophisticated intellectual to the proverbial common reader.
The Less Deceived
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The Less Deceived
The eye can hardly pick them out. From the cold shade they shelter in, Till wind distresses tail and mane; Then one crops grass, and moves about - The other seeming to look on - And stands anonymous again.
The Oxford Book of Twentieth-Century English Verse
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The Oxford Book of Twentieth-Century English Verse
Philip Larkin's Oxford Book of Twentieth-Century English Verse provoked controversy and dispute on first publication in 1973. Warmly welcomed by fellow poets John Betjeman and W. H. Auden, it was also considered a quirky and idiosyncratic collection by some critics. Today it is recognized as a fine and wide-ranging selection of modern English verse.
Philip Larkin
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Philip Larkin
The North Ship
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The North Ship
The North Ship, Philip Larkin's earliest volume of verse, was first published in August 1945 and reissued in 1966 by Faber.
High Windows
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High Windows
Larkin's final collection of poems shows, as does all his best work, his ability to adapt contemporary speech rhythms and everyday vocabulary to subtle metrical patterns and poetic forms.
'Church Going', by Philip Larkin
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'Church Going', by Philip Larkin
This three-part lesson plan helps students become intimately familiar with this marvellous poem, its meaning and context.
'The Whitsun Weddings', by Philip Larkin
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'The Whitsun Weddings', by Philip Larkin
In this lesson plan, students first listen to Larkin himself reading his famous poem, then explore the poem by learning about Whitsun and why it was once a day for weddings.
'An Arundel Tomb', by Philip Larkin
'An Arundel Tomb', by Philip Larkin
'An Arundel Tomb' is about the heavy passage of time and our touching attempts to outlast it. This Lesson Plan can be used in conjunction with our Lesson Plan on 'Ozymandias' by Percy Bysshe Shelley.
'Homage to a Government', by Philip Larkin
'Homage to a Government', by Philip Larkin
This lesson plan teaches the historical context of Larkin's poem and examines the language and poetic devices Larkin used to achieve a sense of anti-climax.
The Oxford Book of Twentieth Century English Verse, chosen by Philip Larkin
Educational Resources for...…
Educational Resources for...…


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Joshua 24:14-15
"Choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your fathers served in the region beyond the River, or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you dwell. But as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD."
As I read this passage, it reminds me of the Bob Dylan song, Gotta Serve Somebody. Dylan understood Joshua's instruction. In seven verses, Dylan covers a full gamut of people with the chorus being:
But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes
You're gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil, or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.
In 1 Kings 18:21, Elijah places the same decision before the people of Israel, "Elijah came near to all the people and said, 'How long will you go limping between two different opinions? If the LORD is God, follow him; but if Baal, then follow him.'" If you don't remember the event, God displays His power by sending fire from heaven while Baal does nothing.
Similarly, in John 6 many of those who were following Jesus chose to follow Him no longer. Jesus puts the question of whom will you serve to the twelve, "Do you want to go away as well?" Joshua's statement is more direct than Peter's, but he makes the same point. "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God."
These saints in the Bible would agree with the premise of Dylan's song: choose who you are going to serve because inevitably you are going to serve someone or something. The choice Joshua, Elijah and Peter made was evident in the lives they chose to live. The question for each of us is the same. Elijah's language fits well in the 21st century, doesn't it? "How long will you go limping between two different opinions?"
Lord God, as for me and my house, we will serve You. Where else would we go, You have the words of eternal life? Holy Spirit, please solidify that decision in me. May the life I live be a witness to the LORD God I serve.
Acts 4:29-31
After reading Joshua's challenge to the people of Israel concerning who they would serve, I found an additional issue in Acts 4. Ok, Roy, you have chosen to serve Me. The question now becomes how are you going to serve Me?
The answer for the disciples in Acts is with "all boldness." Even the Jewish leaders recognized this characteristic after Peter, being filled with the Holy Spirit, bluntly spoke the Gospel to them in Acts 4:7-13.
After being commanded to not teach or speak in the name of Jesus, the disciples prayed, "Now, Lord, look upon their threats and grant to your servants to continue to speak your word with all boldness." God immediately answered their request by filling them with the Holy Spirit, and they continued to speak the word of God boldly.
Lord Jesus, not only do I want to serve You, but I also want to serve You boldly. Please, just as You filled Your disciples with Your Spirit, do the same for me so I, too, may boldly speak the Good News of Jesus, who is the Christ.

subset: commoncrawl


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Cultural Insights
- Two people talking loudly, with lots of gesturing can very well be two good friends debating whether it will rain that afternoon. Typical Cubans
- Most Cubans walk only on the shady side of the street, as the sunny side of the street is considered "the silly man's sidewalk"
- When in restaurants, don't put your purse on the floor. You'll end up poor according to local folklore
- If you happen to be in Cuba for New Year's Eve, watch the locals eating twelve grapes very quickly (one for each month of the year), run around the block with an empty suitcase and throw water on the streets. These rituals aim to ensure good health, travel and fortune in the upcoming year
- Baseball is a quasi religion, currently being challenged by football (soccer)
- To help you learn Spanish and make the locals smile, here are some easy phrases:
- Hello: Hola
- Good morning: Buenos Dias
- Good evening / good night: Buenas noches
- Good Bye: Adios
- This is tasty: Que rico
- How pretty: Que lindo/a
- Let's go: Vamos (important to know when dealing with taxi drivers)
- Deal: De acuerdo
- 1, 2, 3 mojitos: Uno, dos, tres mojitos
- See you soon: Nos vemos pronto
- Can you please take our picture: Por favor nos toma una foto


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Status: Open
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AALCO Security is a local company established in 1974 providing electronic security systems with central station monitoring for emergency response. In addition, we sell and service camera and video recorders (CCTV) systems for homes and businesses. Medical pendants for senior citizens and disabled persons from simple pendant to pendants with 2 way speaker communication and GPS Cell service.
Operational for more than 25 years, Custom Security designs, installs and services a range of electronic equipment. It offers various surveillance systems and accessories. The company provides a variety of cameras, closed-circuit televisions, and security and fire alarms. Custom Security also offers home theater, central vacuum and satellite systems. The company provides various communication...
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Aalco Security Inc can be found at Mckinley Ave 7773. The following is offered: Home Security. The entry is present with us since Sep 7, 2010 and was last updated on Nov 12, 2013. In Mobile there are 29 other Home Security. An overview can be found here.


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I had the most interesting discovery a few weeks ago, as a result of a disagreement with someone very dear to me about something incredibly minimal. This friend had come to me in a polite manner and asked me if I could adjust how I did something around my home when they visit. I took it as they didn't appreciate my time, or the fact that I make time for them in my home, and I immediately became uber sensitive. I kept making a bigger deal about it and didn't understand why. Yes, I can be childish sometimes, and it literally took me 48 hours to understand what was really bothering me and to get over my feelings.
Reality: I can be all up in my feelings sometimes; blame it on the artistry.
The word came to me: triggers.
Have you ever asked someone to help you with something and they said "no," or that they were "unavailable," and that felt like a rejection or like they didn't care about you? Instead of just saying to yourself, "they can't help me at this moment,"you made that "no" mean so much more?
As I mature and accumulate more experiences, I find that the challenge becomes deciphering these experiences, and keeping the present moment unattached from my baggage, or at least unaffected by the triggers it may bring up.
For example, there have been gigs that eventually didn't work out for me for a myriad of reasons: the musical relationship may have started to unravel in minor ways or from small requests that I adjust something musically. So even in a situation when I know an artist desires to have me on stage or in the studio with them, when they ask me to adjust my playing in some way, this request has made me feel like they didn't really want me, or that it was an indication of the detoriation of our connection.
How did I, and do I resolve this feeling?
I face it fully, and I analyze whether there is a real or justifiable fear or if I am just responding to something that is making me feel afraid.
During my recent meditation time, I have been challenged with several mantras. Of those mantras, "Stay Clean" is something I have been praying and meditating on; making the decision to keep my thoughts pure and clear. I constantly have to meditate this reality because it can be tough to address the depth in which something affects me. The journey is not only to soften the effect of my triggers, and to disconnect them from unrelated matters, but also to know that these triggers exist and to really understand my feelings deeper.
The truth is, I may never be able to remove triggers completely, but if I am aware of them, and am not sensitive just for the sake of being sensitive, then I'll know how to prepare for the reality of them. My goal is to be able to hear people beyond my own sensitivity and baggage, in order to create understanding.


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Pentesting and Exploiting Highly Secured Enterprise Networks is an action-packed, hands-on class, giving attendees a chance to perform real-world exploitation on Enterprise network scenarios, accompanied with practical lab exercises in a CTF-style format. The course goes far beyond simple exploitation of low-hanging fruit, and shows pentesters how to perform the abilities of an advanced attacker; finding flaws in a secured networks and calculating the business risk associated with these flaws.
This training is intended for senior/experienced pentesters. Just running a vulnerability scanner and submitting it as your report provides no real benefit to a company. This course goes far beyond your traditional pentesting courses. Real-world Enterprise networks are much more complex in nature, needing your special attention in choosing the techniques and tools that you use in order to infiltrate. A senior penetration tester must succeed where others fail. A senior pentester doesn't give up when a particular exploit is not working - they try to analyse the exploit and make modifications as necessary. They should think outside-of-the-box and come up with solutions to complex problems. They must have knowledge of all domains, and skills that range from network attacks, web attacks, scripting to system exploitation.
This training is a result of years of pentesting experience compromising some of the most highly secured networks, combined into one practical and hands-on class. This course provides in-depth knowledge of the most powerful attack vectors and provides labs to perform these attacks in numerous hands-on scenarios.
Because automation of tools is essential due to time constraints, we have included a module on Python to automate the testing of systems, services, and applications. Multiple python Modules, libraries, and debugging tools have already been written to help simplify and automate fuzzing and research. In order to reach the next level in penetration testing, one must embrace the idea of adding programming into their penetration testing toolkit. Once this power is obtained, tools can be written and shared, allowing you to build up an arsenal for reconnaissance, scanning, fuzzing, and exploitation.
Metasploit and other 3rd party tools are easily detectable by modern security solutions and they have fingerprinted quite well, so it is not possible to have an emulate modern powerful adversary using these tools - there is need for custom code. When we are using custom code that is target specific, there is no mass deployment so antivirus vendors doesn't have signature for those. Building custom scripts will also help in bypassing firewall, IDS/IPS and to evade AV. Custom script will help in post exploitation such as list patches, list users, list AD accounts in active directory, pull passwords with mimikatz, bypass UAC etc. When you are attacking, it is useful to load code into remote process and have it execute within that process' context. So for this we will use DLL injection and we will write DLL injector using Python and this will help us to evade firewalls.
As a pentester you need to be familiar with how to edit, modify and execute shellcodes and be able to understand how exploits work. There are a few scripts online which can cause harm to your system, so you need to how that script works. Metasploit's XOR, shikata_ga_gai encoders are quite well detectable by AntiVirus so we will write our own custom encoders to evade Antivirus and we will use polymorphic engines which is quite difficult to detect and fingerprint.
We will build Command and Control (C2), because network intrusion may be detected and the compromised system can be patched, or some exploits only work once, to survive the reboot. C2 will be Stealth to avoid detection by IDS, persistence to survive reboot, encryption for secure communication and minimising possibility of firewall interference.
This training has been taken by 1000+ security professionals and red team members worldwide to advance their pentesting and exploitation skills, and we have received extremely positive feedback.
The lab has real-world remote Enterprise networks, including different flavours of operating system such as windows and linux. The lab contains real world Firewalls, IDP/IPS, DMZ, Load Balancers, Web Application Firewalls, Active Directory etc. This course is for you if you want to pentest and exploit highly secured Enterprise networks using cutting edge techniques. The training includes 50+ labs and 30+ challenges inspired by real world vulnerabilities and case studies. After the training, attendees will get 1-month remote lab access free, with an additional 20 challenges, 5+ hours of HD videos of training walkthrough, and pre-access to videos on basic Assembly Language and Python Scripting which will help them in class.
Key Learning Objectives:
- Python programming for Scanning, Fuzzing, Keylogging, Sandbox detection etc
- Learn to use custom code in post exploitation to bypass firewall, IDS/IPS and to evade Anti Virus
- Write your own custom encoders using shellcoding
- Learn to write Python DLL Injector which will allow us to load code into remote process and have it execute within process' context to evade firewall
- Read, edit, modify, execute scripts / shellcode downloaded from internet
- Learn how to port exploit using Powershell
- Build Command and Control (C2) infrastructure using different payload delivery methods such as VBA, Client-side exploits, HTML etc.
Training Outline:
Day 1:
- Advanced Information Gathering, Network Scanning, Enumeration, Stealth Scanning Strategies
- Adding custom Nmap scripts to your arsenal
- Assessing Routers - Router scanning analysis, iptables network analysis
- Evaluating switches - VLAN Hopping attacks, GARP attacks, Layer two attacks
- Working with Virtual Switches Evasion
- Attacking the Thin Clients
- Capturing Traffic to uncover network secrets
- Mimikatz to recover clear text passwords
- Faster and smarter password cracking
Day 2:
- Detecting Honeypot
- Bypassing DMZ
- Exploit routing protocol implementations
- Bypass different types of Network Access Control (NAC) implementations
- Firewalls - Mapping beyond firewall, Firewall identification, Evading Firewalls
- Intrusion Detection System / Intrusion Prevention System (IDS/IPS) - IDS/IPS identification, Evading IDS/IPS
- Antivirus - Bypassing Antivirus using different framework, Evading detection and blocks from the different endpoint protection mechanisms that may encounter during your testing, Generating compiled python executable from the raw the shellcode from Veil framework
- Identification and Enumeration of internal network hosts
- Detection of Web Application Firewall and Load Balancers
- Bypassing Web Application Firewalls (WAF) - Tricks to Penetrate Firewall
Day 3:
- Client Side Exploitation - Backdooring Executable Files, Attacking a System using Hostile Scripts
- Advanced client side exploitation with BeEF
- DLL Injection
- Python programming - Extending Burp Proxy, Scanning, Fuzzing, Keylogging, Sandbox detection
- Bypass Linux service lockdown - AppArmor
- Bypass Windows service lockdown - AppLocker
- Windows Domain Attacks - Modern Enumeration of Windows Environments, Controlling the Domain, Authentication Protocol Downgrade Attacks, Breaking from Restricted Desktops
- Active Directory Domain Enumeration
- Active Directory Exploitation
- Kerberos Vulnerabilities - Golden tickets, Silver tickets, Pass-The-Ticket and more
Day 4:
- Attacking Domain Controller
- Abusing Cross Domain Trusts
- Bypassing Windows User Account Control (UAC)
- WMI Attacks - Lateral Movement, Backdoors, persistence etc.
- Powershell - Client Side Attacks, porting exploits to powershell, privilege escalation, getting system secrets
- Pentester's guide to Pivoting
- Advanced methods for privilege escalation
- Shellcoding
- Writing your own shellcode for Bind and Reverse TCP, Egg Hunter etc.
- Use and modify 3rd party shellcode for fun and profit
- Write your own Encoders, Decoders, Crypters to evade AntiVirus
- Create Polymorphic and Mutation code
- Buid Command and Control (C2) infrastructure for stealth, Remote File Access, Remote Command Execution
Attendee requirements for this training:
- Modern laptop with wireless networking capabilities and have admin/root access on it. (64-bit Machine)
- Minimum 4 GB RAM installed
- At least 40 GB HD Free
- VMware Workstation / Fusion installed
- Basic Networking knowledge
- Basic Windows and Linux command-line Skills
- Penetration Testing Experience
- Basic Assembly Language knowledge (Videos will be provided 1 month before the training)
- Scripting knowledge in Python (Videos will be provided 1 month before the training)
Who should attend this training:
- Pentesters who want to take their skills to the next level
- Security Professionals and Red teamers
- Blue teamers who want to defend their environment
- Network / System Admins


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Stellar Star
Quilt pattern printed, new sharp blade inserted, cutting table cleared off! Eager to start with the first task of Blockheads round 2.
If you want a quick overview about the free quilt along project and what materials are needed, you find this information on my previous post here.
Lynne Hagmeier starts the new season with the first quilt block. I can only show my virtual block, since I didn't get the hands on my choosen fabrics so far. But it's a piece of cake to make that patchwork block:
Everyone can do a 9-patch and with the flip-and-stitch method explained in the downloadable quilt block file you can easily make the trapezoids pointing in all four directions.
I used a light and dark from the same shade so I achieved a kind of dimensional effect.
Hop over to Lynn's Blog and see, what she is doing with this block.
BTW: When sewing all the blocks for this project, the instructions will refer to some basic techniques, which will be used again and again. Sewing half square triangles, curved seams, flip and stitch technique, etc. You can download and print this sheets with the basic instructions.


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Make It Stick: Why spaced, interleaved practice works
In the spirit of Make It Stick, I am adding details and presenting some review of the material from before, but in a different way here, to "make it stick" in your brain :-)
In this post, I am detailing how to think of the process of learning, and how you can use your practice best to retain information.
Effortful Retrieval
In effect, retrieval---interrupts forgetting. (Brown et al. 37).
Finding or remembering old information is hard because our brain has forgotten the cues or connections to the information stored, not because we have lost information permanently (Brown et al. 77). So how do we help ourselves keep information at our fingertips? Struggling to find old information forces the brain to make new connections, linking old information to new information and/or modifying the information we are retrieving with new details.
For tango, the way we self-test/retrieve information, is to try moves or techniques of moving, at practicas or milongas. If it works, you know it! If it doesn't, that is also clear. In one study that Brown et al. cited, students who didn't get tested at all on information forgot 52% of what they had learned after ONE week, while students who had been tested repeatedly, only forgot 10% (Brown et al. 55). What is the takeaway here? GO DANCING!
Repeated retrieval
To be most effective, retrieval must be repeated again and again, in spaced out sessions so that the recall, rather than becoming a mindless recitation, requires some cognitive effort. (Brown et al. 45)
Once you have it right, don't stop practicing/reviewing! It is easy to misremember material. Often, if you dance with someone doing it wrong, you will change your memory of the move to what they are doing. Or, someone may remember it differently, and you start to form a memory based on the other person's version (Brown et al. 116-7).
Often in tango, we say that you have to learn something at least three times to remember it well. I have heard numerous teachers repeat this information. Why does repeating the learning experience help you remember? Relearning/recalling learning makes material clearer, connects it better into cues/memory and "weakens competing routes" of cues/memory (Brown et al. 83).
Elaboration is the process of giving new material meaning by expressing it in your own words and connecting it with what you already know. (Brown et al. 22)
When you learn something new in tango, figure out how it fits into the information you already know. This creates connections in your brain that help you access the new information more readily. Find how the new move or technique fits into the big picture of your tango dancing, and you will remember the information better.
One way I help my students do this, is to present information that is closely related, but different. Each new step is connected into the material we have already learned.
For example, my advanced class is working on back paradas, leader front sacadas through the follower's back step, and single-axis turns from the follower's back step. For these three moves, there is only a slight change in the lead to produce different results (send the follower, but don't go; intersect the middle of the follower's back step; and intersect the follower's back step as close to the new landing spot as possible). When we work on them in the same class, the followers can feel the difference in the leader's moves more clearly, and the leaders can see when they have misjudged the movement (and have a backup plan in place, using one of the other options).
I often have students work together doing peer-teaching, which requires them to be able to explain what they are going in their own words.
As you cast about for a solution, retrieving related knowledge from memory, you strengthen the route to a gap in your learning even before the answer is provided to fill it and, when you do fill it, connections are made to the related material that is fresh in your mind from the effort. (Brown et al. 88)
Generation is "the act of trying to answer a question or attempting to solve a problem rather than being presented with the information or the solution is known as generation" (Brown et al. 87). If you have to generate part of the information (fill in the blank for example); you remember the information better because you had to work on retrieval more (Brown et al. 48).
Last week, I taught Tete's "famous ocho" and this week, I taught the reverse volcada that I think developed from Tete's move. I showed the class Tete's ocho, and asked, "What would happen if I moved away from the follower at this point?" Answer: the follower steps forward. "What could I do to prevent the follower from stepping?" Answer: the leader suspends the follower so that s/he can't step. "How do I need to move to get back on balance, moving line-of-dance, to exit?" Answer: [Usually] stepping behind with my left, then sidewises with my right foot, and then walking forward out of the move.
As we worked through each piece of the movement, I tried to ask a question that required thought. I can just show the move over and over, but it won't "stick" the way that requiring students to generate their own answers will. I am still working on this part, as I love to be helpful and provide answers for them :-)
Take time to think about what you've just learned and tie it into what you already know; figure out what you need to know to make it all fit together, or what skill you are still lacking in order to be able to do this thing (Brown et al 209). What is the big picture? What is the overarching larger context for this new information?
People who learn to extract the key ideas from new material and organize them into a mental model and connect that model to prior knowledge show an advantage in learning complex mastery. (Brown et al. 22)
After a class, you should think about/note/write down the key ideas or moves that you have learned. This helps with reflection (retrieval of recently learned info), elaboration (connecting it to what you already know) and generation (putting it in your own words as you mentally rehearse it) (Brown et al. 88).
I write detailed notes during and after a class when I study with a new teacher, or if I want to remember a pattern to teach it later. For example, if I hadn't kept a notebook during my studies with Tete in 2000 and 2001, I would never be able to teach a class of his movements from memory in 2015!


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There is this thing people do in online discourse, where the truth becomes elastic, pliable. One person makes a statement and someone who disagrees reframes it, provocatively, to suit their purpose. On Twitter, I recently shared my opinion about the HBO series Big Little Lies. I did not care for the show, said I found it to be lazy, derivative, and overly focused on rich white women's angst. A woman who disagreed quoted my tweet and said, "When Roxane Gay says domestic violence is just 'rich women's angst.'" As you might expect, I worked up a full head of steam because that was a blatant lie and not at all how I feel about domestic violence. I shouldn't have cared but I do not have the maturity to be graceful when someone is so wildly wrong on the internet. This random person conflated my opinion of a television show that deals, in part, with domestic violence, with my stance on actual domestic violence, which was never part of the conversation. To provoke me, someone felt perfectly justified in using deception to express disingenuous, hollow righteousness.
Later, as I stewed over the exchange, I found myself thinking about truth. I have been thinking about truth a lot this year. I think most of us have, given the current, devastating political climate. I have thought about truth and how untruths made this current political climate possible.
Words matter. The truth matters. It is incomprehensible that this needs to be said, but this needs to be said. Donald Trump has long been a liar. Mendacity is as familiar to him as breathing. When he was simply a bloviating reality television star, his lies were easy to dismiss because he was simply a man with a bad tan, a bad toupee, and bad business acumen. Then he was running for president. His lies mattered more but were somewhat easy to dismiss because politicians lie. Now, though, Trump is the president of the United States. He is supposed to represent not only the minority of people who voted him into office but the rest of America, too. He is supposed to represent the United States throughout the world. He is shamefully inadequate for what his office demands. There is so much money cannot buy.
When Trump lies, it cannot be dismissed, no matter how frequently he does indeed lie about everything. He lies about his predecessor Barack Obama. He lies about the size of crowds who come to see him speak. He lies about his taxes. He lies about former opponent Hillary Clinton. He lies about the FBI, the environment, healthcare, America's standing in the world, foreign policy, the economy, what he thinks, what he believes, and even what he says. The frequency and scope of his lies are such that we could easily be numbed to it all but words matter. The truth matters. Most of us still recognize that.
Every time the president lies, there are repercussions for the economy, for marginalized populations, for this country's ever diminishing international reputation. And if that wasn't bad enough, his lies now have global repercussions. One of Trump's favorite phrases is "fake news," which he deploys anytime he disagrees with how the media reports the truth about his politics, policies, and personal conduct. If something disappoints him, it is fake news and he is coddled by an entire staff of people who indulge him in this pathetic mindset.
The phrase "fake news" is a catchy little sound byte and one that has seeped into the cultural vernacular with alarming speed and ease. People of all political persuasions now use the phrase jokingly because, you know, it is oh so funny that truth has become so degraded, so corrupted, so quickly we can now joke about it. We can use fake news ironically, to hell with the consequences. The ground is softened and too many of us are gleefully treading upon it.
Some people use "fake news" with the utmost sincerity. Women and men coming forward as victims of sexual violence and predation is fake news. Racism is fake news. Homophobia is fake news. The deficit is fake news. Taxes are fake news. Global warming is fake news. Anything that demands they see the world as it is rather than they wish it to be is fake news.
CNN, according to the president, is a major purveyor of fake news. Recently, the president tweeted, "CNN International is still a major source of (Fake) news, and they represent our Nation to the WORLD very poorly. The outside world does not see the truth from them!" His opinion of CNN is nothing new but words matter. After a CNN report about modern day slavery in Libya, a Libyan broadcaster said, "Here the possibility arises that the channel has published the report of slavery in Libya to secure an as yet hidden political objective." Just like that, an atrocity was in danger of being ignored by the people best positioned to address it. Not long after, a government official in Myanmar denied that the Rohingya minority in that country are oppressed when, in fact, they are. That official told the media, "There is no such thing as Rohingya. It is fake news." As unbelievable as it is to say, the president of the United States has given despots and tyrants around the world license to deny the atrocities happening in their countries because he is a pathological liar incapable of any kind of engagement with the truth.
That we have to defend truth, that we have to state over and over again that truth matters, is the stuff of The Twilight Zone, but we're living it, and have been since the day Trump decided he wanted to be president.
The truth matters. I try to remember this every day. I try to believe this every day. And it is hard. I believe in the truth, but, let me be clear, not out of some vigorous sense of idealism. I largely believe in the truth because it is easier to remember the truth than it is to keep up with lies. It is easier to create change and get things done when the most valuable currency is truth. The older I get, the more I crave simplicity and the straightforward. I also know we all lie, some of us more than others. People who say they never lie are lying. Most of us probably lie more to ourselves than anyone else. Sometimes we lie because we have to and sometimes because we want to. But the difference between us and the president and people of his ilk is that we generally feel some kind of remorse for lying. Even if we don't regret our lies, we at least know we're lying. We don't treat lying as a vocation rather than a vice.
This has been a hard year politically, professionally, personally. I find myself wanting to say, "I love you," far more than usual, because that is the one thing I know for sure, the one true, imperfect perfect abiding thing. And I need to hold on to that one true thing because I see the truth of what is happening politically. I want to scream. I want to fight. I want to surrender. I want to hide from the mess of all these terrible things being put into motion by our elected leaders, disgraces the lot of them. It's all too much and there is little shelter from it. Here is another truth — some days, I have to tune the news out. I can't get through my days sitting around obsessing with strangers about worst case scenarios that distressingly keep coming to pass. That said, I do not begrudge people who find comfort in that mild hysteria.
Some days, I barely understand what's going on. Every hour, sometimes multiple times an hour, a significant news story breaks. I don't even know how to keep track of it all. I do my research and read any number of articles before I can begin to make sense of the consequences of each new presidential decree or legislative action or other current event. I watch people on social media — pundits and writers and regular folk — who seem to be instant experts on every matter of policy. I start to feel like a fraud for not knowing all the policy-related things they seem to know. And then I feel like I will never write anything important or useful again. What does cultural criticism matter when we are fighting for healthcare and civil rights and the fate of the planet? And then I feel guilty for being so myopic, having such petty concerns, while the world around me, literally burns.
I have been thinking about truth. I hate when my words are misrepresented but when that stranger online lied about my opinion of Big Little Lies, I also had an uncomfortable moment of self-reflection. I had to admit to myself that when pushed on something I care passionately about, I might not be above doing the same thing. I might not be above making the truth of someone else's ideas malleable to better suit my world view. I don't like what that says about me. And that's what's at stake now, in ways small, such as this, and great, such as the fate of the world. The ground of truth has been softened by a perfidious president and self-interested politicians and everyone treating fake news as a punch line. The ground has been softened but we can mind how we tread upon it. We can make that ground stronger. We can. We will. That, too, is the truth.


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Cough and Cold Season Begins Halloween 2017/
Each one of us applied pur personal touch to being sick. I slept all of yesterday, from which my lesson is always "pause and/or slow down".
Jared emptied out one tissue box and trailblazed by trying a netti pot which he used a few times long ago. Any lessons learned that I could jot down here would really be my own lessons, or more likely lessons that I wpuld hope Jared would learn one day.
Beren coughed, and groused. He refused to use the beige "nose rags" (cut up old sheets, about tissue sized) because they were ugly. As above on the lessons.
Jared declared that Beren gets sick at Hallowen each year, which means we all ge sick. He would mark the calendar and enforce proper dress on Halloween night 2018. I noted that most children were not dressed according to Hungarian grandparental standards (wool hat, gloves, boots, coat). I added that exposure to cold is not a "germ" in itself. Jared's response was to the affect that he was on his way to being a Hungarian grandparent in decades hence.


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Kicking off our senior portraits for the Class of 2014 is Kathryn from Mercy High School! Kathryn is such an easy going girl. We had a lot of fun around her house and neighborhood for her senior portraits. She describes herself as being shy, smart, casual and opinionated. An active volunteer and honor society member, her favorite subjects are math and physics. She is also a very talented piano player! We really enjoyed getting to know Kathryn and are excited to share this sneak peek with you.
Have a great senior year Kathryn - and best wishes for a very bright future ahead!
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Molecular stress physiology of plants edited by Gyana Ranjan Rout and Anath Bandhu Das.
Contributor(s): Das, Anath Bandhu | Rout, Gyana Ranjan.Material type: BookPublisher: India : Springer, 2013Description: 440p.ISBN: 9788132208075; 8132208072; 9788132208068; 8132208064.Subject(s): Life sciences | Biochemistry | Plant diseases | Plant physiology | Life Sciences | Plant Physiology | Protein Science | Plant Pathology | Biochemistry | Life sciences | Plant diseases | Plant physiology
|Item type
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|Prof. M S Swaminathan Library, ICAR: Indian Agricultural Research Institute
|581.1:577.23 M73 (Browse shelf)
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The Greens Can't Have It Both Ways - Peters
The Rt Hon Winston Peters MP, Leader of New Zealand First, today said that the Green's concerns about Labour and New Zealand First consulting over superannuation were hypocritical given the numerous times the Greens and Labour have consulted over major issues – as one would expect under MMP.
"Or is it just that Rod Donald only considers consultation a closed door meeting when New Zealand First is involved? MMP requires parties meeting constructively over key issues and that is exactly what Labour and New Zealand First are doing over the superannuation issue.
"Having spit the dummy over this issue Mr Donald and the Greens now seem to resent Labour consulting with anyone else to try and seek agreement. You can't have it both ways Rod!" said Mr Peters.
Mr Peters said that unlike the Greens New Zealand First is not a political doormat.


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Your Supply Chain Software news feed!
Magaya Corporation announced an investment from LLR Partners, a middle market private equity firm committed to creating long-term value by growing its portfolio companies.
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The freight management software webinar included a look at what is new and exciting in the latest release of Magaya.
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text: I'm an advocate for infertility solutions at Physician's Surrogacy at Reproductive Sciences Medical Center. We are located in San Diego, but we accept surrogates and egg donors from all over the U.S. We pay for ALL travel expenses from flights, to hotels, to food. We also pay for one person to come with you for support. If you're interested in becoming an egg donor or surrogate, please contact me. I answer my phone and email almost immediately. If you refer someone to me that goes through the surrogacy or egg donation process, you will receive $400. ALL COMPENSATION IS THROUGH A NON-TAXED ESCROW ACCOUNT. Surrogates get compensated around $60,000. Must have already given birth without complication. Egg donors get compensated anywhere from $7,000 to $25,000. Must be between 19-29 years old.


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Wal-Mart Warns Tariffs Will Raise Prices And Tax American Businesses. Target is 'deeply troubled' over Trump's tariffs. EU's Brexit hard line angers Theresa May. Wells Fargo plans to cut up to 10% of workforce in the next 3 years. U.S. oil sanctions on Iran threaten global supplies, but a demand slowdown poses a real risk.
To download this MP3 AUDIO file, right click here and choose "save target as" or "save link as"


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Measures going down to defeat
On election night, Oregonians blocked attempts to overturn the state's sanctuary status for undocumented immigrants and affirmed public funding for reproductive health care, holding onto its status as a socially liberal state.
In so doing, Oregon voters rejected socially conservative priorities by large margins.
They also roundly rejected fiscally conservative measures that attempted to restrict tax increases, opening the door for broader tax reforms in the 2019 legislative session.
In early statewide returns, about 58 percent of voters rejected Measure 103, which would have banned taxes on groceries.
And about 66 percent of voters counted rejected Measure 104, which would require a three-fifths majority vote in the Legislature on certain tax-related measures.
Under that measure, lawmakers — 60 percent in both the House and Senate — would have had to vote "yes" to approve changes to tax credits, exemptions and deductions, or fee increases.
The liberal coalition Our Oregon claimed that the state in this election defended itself from out-of-state interests.
"By rejecting Measures 103 and 104, Oregonians came together to defend our values from outside special interests who tried to increase their profits at the expense of Oregon families," said Our Oregon Executive Director Becca Uherbelau in a written statement. "Voters once again made a statement for all of Oregon's leaders to hear: we want strong investments in health care and education."
Proponents of Measure 104 said the measure's complicated ballot title presented an insurmountable challenge.
"The complicated and confusing ballot title was just too much to overcome," said Shawn Cleave, government affairs director for the Oregon Association of Realtors, in a written statement. "Our coalition will continue to fight to protect important deductions like the mortgage interest and property tax deductions that keep homeownership affordable for many of our friends and neighbors."
Measure 105 would have overturned a state law that prohibits local police from using their resources to apprehend people whose only violation of law is being in the country without legal permission. About 63 percent of voters said no.
Supporters of the measure challenged a law that has been in place since 1987. It was designed to prevent racial profiling by police.
Andrea Williams, executive director of Causa, the immigrant-rights organization, was a leader of the No on Measure 105 campaign. A full hour before election returns came in, she sounded positive, saying the volunteers knocked on "more than half a million doors in the state" and obtained more than 500 endorsements, ranging from law enforcement officials to business leaders to civil rights groups.
"What we heard was the same in urban Oregon and rural Oregon," she said. "We were pleased by that."
Retired Police Chief Ron Louie of Hillsboro attended the No on Measure 105 rally at the First Congregational United Church of Christ in downtown Portland. Louie said he felt optimistic that the campaign — to maintain Oregon's so-called "sanctuary" status — had resonated with voters. "Well see. We talked to a lot of folks," he said.
The measure prompted a divide within the state's police community, with 16 sheriffs supporting the measure, including Washington County's Sheriff Pat Garrett. Other law enforcement officials spoke out against it publicly, including Washington County District Attorney Kevin Barton.
The measure demonstrated the renewed interest in immigration policy since now-President Donald Trump announced his candidacy in 2015.
Voters also blocked Measure 106, which was mounted by a pro-life group that wanted to ban public funding for most abortions. About 64 percent of voters rejected Measure 106.
Pro-choice advocates were buoyant about the results.
"Together, we made sure that Oregon voters saw Measure 106 for what it was: a backdoor ban on abortion," said Grayson Dempsey, executive director of NARAL's Pro-Choice Oregon political action committee. "In Oregon, we trust women to make their own decisions — and a right is not a right if you cannot afford to access it."
Amid a statewide housing crisis, Oregonians also approved a measure that allows local governments to use public bond money for private housing projects.
Nearly 56 percent of voters approved the measure.
"Housing is affecting everybody, whether it's our workers at OHSU who are getting priced out of Portland or workers in Pendleton who are worried about finding housing," said Joe Baessler, political director for Oregon's American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees, which represents government workers. "It took me by surprise how strongly our members felt about that measure."
The measure requires local voters' approval of any such bonds, annual audits and public reporting on how the borrowed funds are spent.
Times Managing Editor Dana Haynes contributed to this story.
Quality local journalism takes time and money, which comes, in part, from paying readers. If you enjoy articles like this one, please consider supporting us.
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Jonathan Ogden
El olor de flores flotando tras la selva. Ten miedo la Ixtabay ya viene.
Fray Diego de Landa's head jerked, reptilian, following the sound of a mosquito. His eyes narrowed and his hand darted out swiftly to grasp the unfortunate parasite mid-flight. Opening his fingers, he saw the mangled corpse awash with unknown blood. Mildly disgusted, he wiped the blood away, wondering whether it was Spanish, or Mayan.
Ten years had passed since Diego arrived in the Spanish Territory of Yucatan. In those ten years he had waged a holy war against Mayan identity itself. He found their ancient marvels: pyramids bedecked with ornate pictographic writings telling the story of a thousand year old civilization; domed observatories where the movement of stars and planets were predicted for the next five hundred years. These he found alongside schools, libraries, administrative buildings, and athletic arenas. He tore them down slab by limestone slab and cannibalized their remains to build housing for soldiers, wealthy men's estates, and churches.
He collected their writings and burned them. There was weeping for the loss of the ancient marvels but the people shed tears of blood for their writings, for in the holocaust of their codices an entire empire's knowledge of history, religion, science, philosophy, and art was lost forever.
The golden era of Mayan civilization had passed before the Spaniards arrived. Centuries before, an unnamed fear drove them from their great cities, which were largely reclaimed by the eternal jungle. The armies that remained broke upon Spanish steel like waves on the shore. Those who would reject the yoke of the conquerors fled to the jungle; for the Spanish could not reach them there, those lands belonged to the gods alone.
But a man cannot live in the jungle, he can only survive. Some of them were able to scrape a bare survival off of wild game and chaparral fruits, but hunger was their constant companion. Eventually, they would have to return to their cornfields, or starve.
The thought made Diego smile as he stared absently at the manuscript before him. Yucatan Before and after the Conquest by Bishop Diego de Landa, his life's work. It was a chronicle of what he had seen of the Mayans and a testament to his fascination and disgust. He described within how the Mayan people savagely mutilated themselves by filing their teeth into points and adorning them with bits of jade and gold, how they strapped boards to their infant's heads in order to elongate their skulls. Giving them a bizarre and fearsome appearance, how they held secret ceremonies to horrid, decaying gods in dark, wet caves, and their practice of human sacrifice.
And yet, Diego could not help but admire what they had created: massive pyramids bedecked with geometric art that rivaled that of the orient in its complexity, projects of infrastructure that included leagues of white roads cut through the forest and jungle, and a peerless knowledge of the movement of the heavenly bodies.
The contrast between their barbarism and science, their art and ruthlessness, their beauty and vulgarity, was fascinating to him. Often, Diego would find himself staring at the Mayans fixated by their small stature, ovular faces, and almond shaped eyes.
One woman in particular worried his attentions: Ixchel. Though only fourteen, she was a beauty. Diego remembered the first time he had seen her. Her beauty was arresting, even as a child. Now, she approached womanhood. The buds of her hips and breasts had bloomed. The large eyes and pouted lips, which in childhood lent her an air of innocence, now made her a siren. Her eyes were her most striking feature. They were deeper and richer verdant than ever was the stone that perched the throat of a queen. They sparkled like emeralds and glowed like jade. It was rumored that they were the parting gift of the soldier who raped her mother. If that was the case, he had long since fled the city, for neither among the natives nor the Europeans were a pair of eyes to be seen as rivaled hers.
Rubbing his own eyes, Diego picked up his pen. He held it suspended over the page of his manuscript. A drop of ink grew fat at the tip of his quill and dropped onto the parchment. Diego did not notice. He was lost in a memory.
"Ma'! Ma'! Ma'! Maaaaaa'! Maaaaa'!" The last words of a young warrior screamed out as he pissed himself, Mayan priests held him pinioned against the etched limestone altar, belly upward and bulging tense so that it burst open when another priest plunged his knife into it. Clearly, Diego remembered how the pools of blood had made small rivulets that trickled down the carved image of a ceiba tree whose branches held the heavens and among whose roots were tangled the images of corpses. Forcefully, Diego closed his eyes and tried to shut the memory out. He sighed and put down the quill
"No more today." He said aloud. He took a steadying breath and crossed himself. Putting on his robes, he walked outside into the overwhelming heat and walked towards the Cathedral in the town square.
The cathedral loomed grim and grey over the city like a golem. It was built from the remains of T'ho, the abandoned city that Spanish reclaimed and christened Merida. In spite of its fearsome appearance, the cathedral's thick walls offered welcome respite from the tropical heat. Perhaps for this reason, Diego arrived to a cathedral packed with people. Moving amongst them and offering perfunctory greetings, he made his way to the confessional.
His first confessor was a soldier who had slaughtered a child in the revelry of battle. Diego ordered him to perform one thousand rosaries for the life that he took, and to give an ingot of gold to the closest surviving relative.
A Dutch businessman confessed to trading glass marbles and worthless baubles for rare stones, and spices.
"Such a sin is easily remedied by giving a portion of the money gained in the sale back to the people you cheated." Said Diego.
"Yes Father, but with the proceeds from this journey, I plan to retire. I will not return to this land." Said the Dutchman.
"Then give twenty percent of your profit to the Church, thereby you give not only to those you cheated, but to God." Said Diego.
"As you say Father."
The next confessor entered accompanied by the smell of lilies. Ixchel. Diego glanced through the wooden screen. She had one white flower tucked into her hair, but the smell but the thickness of it seemed to waft from her very skin.
"Forgive me father, for I have sinned." She said.
"All have sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God, Child. Go on."
She bit her lower lip. Her large green eyes watered. "I have had impure thoughts of a man."
Fray de Landa breathed slowly and deeply. His vision swam. He could not think clearly. The scent was overpowering. He felt a strong swelling from beneath his robes. "Of course it— Only natural for you to—" He stammered.
"It is worse, for the object of my desire is a man of God." Ixchel looked directly through the lattice grille at Diego.
He took a deep breath and held it, weighing his words. He exhaled slowly. "When my mind is troubled, I find that a walk under the moon clears my head. Perhaps you might find similar solace. There will be a full moon tonight; it should be particularly lovely at the cenote, when the moon reaches its highest point." He turned to face her; their eyes met and spoke plainly the intimation of their words.
"Yes Father." She said, and rose, pulling down her huipilwhere it had bunched over her heart shaped thighs and buttocks.
Diego listened to the sounds of her footsteps on the stone floor as they faded. The cathedral was empty; outside the sun had begun its descent. Soon, it would be night. He left, his head still spinning.
He spent the rest of the evening in distraction. After a few hours he saw that the moon approached its apex. "A bit of fresh air would surely clear my mind" he said. He abandoned the thick air of his study and emerged into the bracing freshness of the night, walked towards the cenote.
Ixchel's silhouette indented the reflection of the moon on the water. "Hello Father" she said without looking at him.
"Hello My Child. Do you find the night air agreeable?" said Diego.
"Yes. You know— I've always loved this place. We all love the cenote, do we not? Even you Spaniards. No matter how harsh the sun, it always provides cool, clean water."
Fray Diego did not speak, he continued gazing at Ixchel's backside, watching the breeze play with the edges of her dress and hair as it danced across her skin. She turned to face him.
"There is a lake even more beautiful than the cenote. When I was a child I played there, swimming in the waters. It is quite beautiful. I can show you, if you like." She said, smiling in a way that was both innocent and sultry.
"I would like to see such a place." Said Diego.
"Then I will take you." She said, and he allowed her to grasp his hand and lead him deeper into the jungle away from the light.
"Where are we going?" Asked Diego.
"The underworld has many entrances, all of them connected. Our ancestors navigated from here all the way to the great city of Chichen Itza, without ever hearing birdsong. The cenote is the entrance that leads directly to the watery halls of— how do you say— kiimil?"
"Death." Answered Diego, shivering as he spoke the word.
"Yes— Death— To his watery halls we send emissaries in times of peril. But, those who see Death cannot leave the Underworld. So we must enter through the cave."
A deep sorrow echoed in Diego's heart, suddenly his eyes brimmed with tears but he did not know why.
"I'm lost in the woods, Ixchel. Once, I saw clearly the path before me, but now I know not how to move forward or back." He said.
Ixchel stopped and smiled at him. Seeing a tear, she reached up and wiped it away. "You were lost when you came. Now, you have found the path that will lead you from despair. First, we pass through the darkness. Do not be afraid Diego, I'm with you." She said.
They came to a towering ceiba. Its trunk was a soft, green color. It was swollen in the middle, giving it the appearance of a woman, with child. Its base was a mass of gnarled roots that almost looked like the hair upon the pubis.
"Here." Said Ixchel.
"Here? There is nothing but the tree." Said Diego.
The cave is death. The ceiba is life. They are connected." Said Ixchel, simply. She led him to the base. There was a dark crack just big enough for one person to squeeze through. Ixchel disappeared into the darkness, pulling Diego's hand. But he resisted.
In fear, he jerked his hand away. A moment passed, and Ixchel reemerged. "Don't be afraid, Diego, I'm with you. Take my hand." She held out her hand, soft and warm. Diego looked at it, noticing the way the brown skin the color of coffee faded into a softer beige at the palm. He reached out and touched the tips of her fingers with his own. She pulled gently at his fingertips until he leaned forward, allowing her to intertwine her fingers with his. Once again, she disappeared into the darkness, and this time he allowed himself to be pulled after.
He had to stoop once inside. Ixchel's body pressed against him. She laughed softly, and her sweet breath tickled his ear. "The last time I was here, I could stand up straight. It's been too long. Look, there is the entrance to the cave." Diego looked where she indicated and saw a hole between two large rocks, cleft by the roots of the ceiba in its search for water. Ixchel lowered herself until she sat. Then she eased her hips in and slowly dropped down, disappearing into the bowels of the earth. The last thing that Diego saw was her laughing face, before she disappeared entirely. His heart pounding, he followed.
He felt rocky floor about a meter below. He placed his feet and slid into next chamber easily. It was pitch black. "Ixchel? Where are you?" He called.
"Here I am Diego." He could hear her smile without seeing it. He moved towards her, hands outstretched, one landed on her breast and another on the curve of her hipbone. His hands lingered. Laughing, she pulled them away, taking them in her own. "Diego!" she said, "You must stay very close to me. There are many false passages that lead into unknown depths. Men have been lost here before. The fortunate ones are taken into the service of Kiimil. He gives them eyes that see in the dark, and reduces their form so that they might better move through his halls. These ones we call the Alux."
"And— The unfortunate ones?"
Ixchel hesitated, "Those lost in the underworld, deemed unworthy to join the services of the death god, wander forever in the blackness, their bellies swollen with hunger."
Diego shuddered, and reached out, holding to the fabric of Ixchel's huipil like child would to its mother.
He tried to memorize the many twists and turns that they took in the dark, but it was hopeless. Suddenly, they heard a noise. Diego's fists clenched.
"What was that?" He said.
"An alux." Said Ixchel. There was no fear in her voice.
Diego heard the sounds of movement in the chamber with them, for the first time since they entered the second chamber he saw something, a pair of eyes that glittered like fire.
"We are close now." Said Ixchel. She led Diego into new chamber and he saw the glow of light at the far end. They followed it into a giant, dome shaped cavern, where moonlight streamed down from holes in the rock ceiling, onto crystalline waters in an underground lake. Laughing, Ixchel ran, kicking off her hempen sandals as she went. She leapt into the water with a splash that sent shoals of pale fish scattering in all directions.
The beauty of the lake was ethereal. The water was so clear that Diego could see small crabs crawling on the rocks many meters below as they sifted the water for the microscopic plankton.
"Jump!" Said Ixchel. Diego could see her brown nipples pushing against the fabric of her white dress as it floated about her. Taking off his boots and outer garments, he eased himself into the water. Ixchel swam to a pile of rocks in the very center of the lake that had fallen from the ceiling in a time before man. She stood on her tiptoes in order to poke her face out of the water. The moonbeams that fell through the hole in the ceiling made her skin and huipil glow. She laughed as Diego paddled out to her awkwardly. He put his arms around her, feeling her skin, tight against the coolness of the water. He looked down on her and she looked up towards him, her large green eyes were heavy lidded, and her mouth partially opened. He pulled her towards him in a firm embrace, his mouth finding hers.
They stood, in the center of sphere half air and half water illuminated by magic rays of moonlight. The drops that fell from the edges of the cavern into the waters below and the nocturnal dance of the cave creatures, was a song of life and death in this place where the two met in the unending circle of all being.
Diego felt as though he had never really been alive before this moment. He chased Ixchel, playing the games of love. She was a much stronger swimmer than he, who paddled dog-like, scaring fish below. Ixchel swam to the sheer rock shore, where she waited, laughing. Diego arrived, winded, and crawled on his hands and knees until he reached her. They kissed and she moved back slowly pulling at him gently until he lay on top of her. She arched her back, pulling the hem of her dress above her hips and thighs. Then she began searching about the folds of Diego's undergarments. Somewhere, deep in Diego's mind, a warning was being shouted. But he had chosen this when he first suggested the meeting. He would not abandon it now.
Ixchel found what she sought, and pulled Diego inside of her. For the first time in his life, Diego felt what it was to be with a woman. In that moment, he understood life and his purpose in it. Then came the explosion of pleasure, which drove all other thoughts from the mind. Leaving only white numbness. It was like being born. He rolled off and lay next to Ixchel, who put her head on his chest, as they both looked up through the holes in the ceiling above them at the patches of sky where a billion stars twinkled and the glowing white strip of the milky way wended it's way across the sky. In that moment Diego had found his divinity, but it was gone almost as suddenly as it came.
The vacuum of Diego's numbness filled with dread. The cave grew darker. The crawling and scraping of the nocturnal creatures echoed against the wet walls of the cave frightfully. It sounded as though they were crawling inside of Diego's very ears. What was once mysterious and beautiful now seemed dark and sinister. He was cold.
What have I done? I will be stripped of the priesthood. This witch tricked me. She has surely bewitched me with her charms and led me to this sin. In his heart, he knew it was a lie. However, there was one thing that was abundantly clear to him.
No one can ever find out about this.
Ixchel, deaf to the turmoil that raged inside of her lover, sighed daintily and stretched allowing her arm to fall on Diego's chest. She began to caress him with the tips of her fingernails.
"I will bear you a strong child." She said, happily.
"The moon is at its fullest, and we lie beneath the fertile ceiba, next to the cenote, which gives life from death. There is no doubt. Your seed will grow to a strong child within me."
"No… You can't! I would lose everything! Everything!"
Diego leapt up and began pacing. Ixchel stood as well. Not understanding, she placed a hand of comfort on his shoulder. Diego whipped around to face her, jerking away from her touch. He struck Ixchel with an open hand, sending her to the ground.
"Witch! Your perverted lust has lead me to this damnation!"
Pain, confusion, and wrath contorted Ixchel's face. With the speed of a viper, she raked her nails across Diego's face, tearing five bloody trails into his skin. She stared, defiantly. Bringing a hand to his face, Diego saw blood on his fingers. He made a fist and stepped forward striking Ixchel in the mouth. Her teeth broke against the impact of his blow and her head snapped to the side, pinching a nerve in her neck. She blacked out, fell to the ground, and rolled into the water.
Diego watched her body floating face down in the water as a crimson halo formed around her head.
"What have I done?" He waded into the water and pulled her back, laying her tenderly on the ground. She was breathing. Scooping her up like a child, he fled the cave as though in so doing he could escape from all that had transpired.
Going back into the dark antechamber, he took the first right turn, feeling the wet rock and clay of the walls. On he went left, straight across the next room to the shelf they had lowered themselves, but he could not seem to feel the hole. Suddenly, he was not so certain that he had come to the correct chamber. Had they gone left or right before? He made his way backwards, and this time went the other direction in the lake's antechamber. Ixchel was becoming quite heavy. Doubting himself again he tried to go back, but found himself in a different room entirely. Where are we? He lay Ixchel down on the ground, and began to sob.
"I've ruined us. We'll go mad in this infernal darkness and be eaten alive by monsters. "
"Oh God—"
"—I can hear them—"
A clawing, scraping, scratching, and scrabbling sound was approaching. Diego backed away, pulling Ixchel after him. Yellow eyes pierced the dark, one, then two pairs, three, four and five. They peered at him through the darkness, chattering, in a low and guttural language. It wasn't Mayan, at least not a dialect that Diego had heard before, but it had the same glottal popping sound.
They moved closer, chattering hesitantly. Diego held Ixchel closely. Two rushed forward and grabbed her legs.
"No! I won't let you take her! You can't have her!" He yelled out. They pulled harder, wrenching her from his grasp.
"No!" Diego made for the glowing eyes, flailing his fists and lashing out with his legs. His shin connected with one, the rest encircled him.
"Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me, your rod and your staff, they comfort me." Diego shouted the words as a battle cry. His voice echoed and danced down infinite chambers hidden in the darkness.
"Cooomfort me" "Coomfort me" "Eeeevil, coooomfort me"The guttural voices of the cave men mimicked his speech.
"Aaaah!" Diego, rushed forward to attack. Then they were all on him. Five pairs of small hands with sharp nails raked him, and five sets of sharp, animal teeth tore at his skin. They had him held down each one sitting on a limb, with the last one perched atop his chest. Small fingers closed in on his throat. With one last burst of strength, Diego whipped free his right hand. Grabbing a rock from the ground, he drove it with all his might against the head of the creature that sat on his chest. He felt its ovular skull give way with the force of his blow. Shrieking and wailing, the four other creatures fled as he chased after them, swinging his weapon blindly.
"Ixchel? Ixchel! Where are you?!? Feeling in the darkness, Diego's hands came over the lifeless corpse of the alux, it was wet with cave damp and blood. It felt hairy and obscene to his touch. He quickly withdrew his hand. Then, he felt the familiar texture of Ixchel's huipil. He scooped her up and began moving again in the cave, blindly. Trying distance himself from the monsters.
In the pitch dark of the underworld, time loses meaning. Men have survived by sucking moisture from the rocks, and eating unknown things that crawl in the darkness, too slow to escape their blind, blundering hands. But even a few hours in the black will erode at your sanity.
The air around you is thick, it presses on you. You long for a gentle breeze, the slightest whisper of fresh air but each breath is dank and humid. Rarely will you find yourself in an area large enough to stand up. Most your journey is spent writhing in holes like an insect. Standing still, the only sound that you hear will be that of dripping water. The droplets filter down, condensing on the ceiling, as they follow the millennial path of the droplets that came before them, building particle by particle the stalactites that they fall from.
Then your ears become more sensitive. You hear falling rocks in distant chambers. You wonder, what could cause such a clamor? Soon, your ears become so attuned that you hear all eight steps of the cave spider as it traces its path across the rock. You hear the worm's mouths working, as they chew the dirt. Then, most maddening of all, you hear footfalls.
Diego wandered for an eternity in the blackness, carrying Ixchel. Then he tasted something as sweet as a raindrop tastes to a man lost at sea: fresh air. The invisible air current jarred him from his nightmarish trance, reviving his cognition. He sniffed and snuffled like a dog, trying to find it again. When he did, he stood perfectly still, allowing the stream of air to bathe him. He could smell each individual flower in that breeze. He took a step, trying to follow it. As soon as he moved, he lost it. In panic, he moved back to his previous position where he felt the familiar draft. Taking another slow step in another direction, he found himself still in the airstream. Thus, by inches, he chased the source.
He arrived at an earthen ceiling. Laying Ixchel down, he began to claw the dirt. It was cold to touch. His hands began to ache and blood seeped out from under his fingernails as he scratched. Then, blinding light burst through the hole he had made. Diego closed his eyes, pained, and then cried out in delight. He clawed even more furiously at the earth until he had created a hole large enough to squeeze through. He took Ixchel's limp form, and with some difficulty, forced it through, pulling himself up afterwards. He lay down next to Ixchel, in the blessed light of dawn, breathing greedily, laughing and crying.
The clopping of horse hooves cut short his exultation. He dragged Ixchel into the nearby brush, and crouched down. A group of soldiers came to the place where he was hidden. Their captain motioned to stop. He peered into the bushes and brambles, searching.
Finally, he spoke. "One who hides from the authorities must be a criminal. I see your footprints, and the broken branches where you have hidden yourself. I don't much care for hide and seek, so I will give you to the count of five before I start looking with the tip of my sword. One… Two… Three…"
Diego emerged from the bushes, panting. The captain of the guard stared for at the Bishop in shock.
"Father de Landa, how did you come to be in the middle of the woods, half naked, and covered with mud and blood. You aren't a vampire are you?" He joked, as the shock wore off.
Diego did not speak. The truth was inadmissible, and he could imagine no lie that could possibly account for the bizarreness of the situation. Then, a soft moaning drifted through the brush.
The captain's eyes snapped over toward the sound. Without speaking, he dismounted, pushing Diego aside. He withdrew Ixchel from the scrub and brambles a few moments later, her dress was torn, exposing her breast. She was covered with cuts and scrapes, and her mouth was bloodied from where Diego struck her but she was conscious and able to walk with some help. Gently, the captain put his jacket around her, to hide her nakedness.
"I'm afraid that I must insist upon your explanation Father. What happened to this maiden?" Said the captain.
"I am no maiden!" Said Ixchel abruptly. She stood proudly, though her body was as torn and stained as her huipil.
"In the cave, Diego de Landa lay with me. When I told him that I carry his child he flew into a rage, beating me until I lost sight. I do not know how he managed to find his way back, but I lament that the death god did not spare me the shame of return by taking me into his service. I can only assume I am thus punished for bringing such a wicked man into a holy place."
"What say you Father?" Asked the captain of the guard.
Diego breathed in deeply, summoning all the pride and commanding tone that he could. He was painfully conscious of how hollow his voice sounded, but he gained momentum as he spoke. By the end, he spoke with the fiery passion of a sermon. Ixchel, hissed at every lie that drifted past his lips.
"I say that by virtue of my appointment as the Bishop of Yucatan my word is the word of the Holy See. The vengeful hand of God Himself will answer any infamy spoken towards his servant. The witch lies. Last night she poisoned me with a potion that rendered me unable to control my body. In this state she lead me to a cave where she meant to sacrifice me to the Devil. By the grace of the Lord, the potion weakened enough that I was able to cry out to God. Upon speaking his name, I regained control of my body. I struck the witch, causing her to sleep. There, in the darkness of the cave, it was only by the light of God that I was able to find my way out."
By the end of his speech, Diego himself almost believed the lie. Only the captain of the guard seemed not to believe his tale.
"Your word is law Father" He spat. "We are bound as soldiers of the Crown to act upon it I implore you to recognize the significance of the accusation you are making. The penalty for witchcraft is crucifixion. Are you certain of your story?"
Diego looked hard into the eyes of the captain, speaking his words emphatically. "The girl is a witch. Crucify her."
The captain of the guard grimaced and addressed his men. "Seize the girl. Pin her to the ceiba, and break her legs.
Ixchel ran. She said a prayer to the deer god to lend her his swiftness, but horses are faster than deer. In a practiced, pincer movement, three mounted soldiers cut off her path. Trapped, she turned back the way she had came, and found herself surrounded. They dragged her, screaming, to the base of the ceiba tree. There, they lifted her and pinned her to the tree trunk so that she was suspended by her wrists.
The echoes of Ixchel's screams remained in the dreams of Diego de Landa until his deathbed
He was dreaming of wet earth, blood, and screams again when the doctor's voice awakened him.
"I'm afraid he hasn't much longer." The doctor said. Though his eyes were closed, and his breathing slow, Diego was awake. The voice of his doctor receded into the distance as he and his companion walked away. Diego didn't need a doctor to know that he was dying. He felt it in his bones. But he was not afraid. He knew that he went now to his Father. His entire life was dedicated to the service of God. He had endured pestilence, famine, drought, and even witchcraft.
–His mouth twitched—
Only a bit more to endure and his mortal cage would expire, setting the spirit free. He closed his eyes, hoping to dream of paradise and never awake. The smell of white flowers drifted over him. He kept his eyes closed, breathing the aroma. The scent was invigorating. In fact, he suddenly felt nothing so much as the desire to get up from bed and open the curtains. He sprang up, and danced across the room throwing wide the thick, hempen curtains. The night song of the insects was buoyed on a gentle breeze.
"Do you find the night air agreeable?" Said a voice behind him.
It was Ixchel, looking lovelier than ever, her eyes sparkling, and dark locks tumbling over her brown shoulders.
"Yes My Child, it is quite agreeable." Sighed Diego.
"Will you walk with me, Father?" She said.
"I would like nothing more than to leave this room that stinks of staleness and death." Admitted Diego.
"Then take my hand." Ixchel smiled.
Diego was puzzled, for he did not remember Ixchel's teeth being filed to points., but so lovely was her appearance and so sweet the fragrance that drifted about her, that even the vulgar self-mutilations of the Mayans could not affect his cheery disposition.
He followed her through the town and into the jungle. They walked for a long time without speaking. He was overcome by the wonder of walking again, breathing in the cool air, and listening to the murmurs of the night animals.
Finally, they reached a clearing with a huge ceiba. It was familiar to Diego, but he could not remember where he had seen it before. Ixchel turned and smiled coquettishly. She stepped towards him, and took his hands, placing them upon her breast and her hip. Diego squeezed the supple flesh. He pulled her close, and kissed her, remembering what he had felt thirty years before, in the glittering beauty of the underground cave. It brought him profound sadness.
"I was so wrong. I was so, so wrong. My whole life— wasted." He said, mournfully. Ixchel continued kissing his neck, working her way downward. A horrible stench was on the wind that supplanted the scent of white flowers with the reek of bones. She began to bite him, hard, her filed teeth breaking into his skin.
"Ah! That's too hard Ixchel, stop!" Fray Diego tried to pull away, but Ixchel grabbed at him, digging her nails into his skin."
With all of his might, Diego forced her head upwards, away from his chest. Her mouth dripped blood; her eyes were wild and leering. Her pointed teeth gnashed like an animal's. With inhuman strength she pinned his hands to his sides, grinding her pelvis excitedly against his groin as she lowered her jaws to his chest.
When Ixchel pressed her fingernails into his sternum he began to scream as she divided bone and tissue. With a crack louder even than his screaming, his ribcage rent open exposing his organs. The screams ceased, but Diego's mouth remained open, his eyes wide with terror, as Ixchel pulled his heart from his chest and began eating it slowly, his blood dripping down her chin onto her round breasts as she continued to grind her pelvis excitedly against him.
He was found dead in the sheets the next day, his face a petrified mask of horror.


text: So... I had been planning for London Fashion Week for about 2 months. Shopping, scheduling, networking and so on. I arrive, nothing went as planned. I was very sick the whole time and spent more hours in my hotel bed than shopping or attending shows. I'm quite irritated about the whole situation and wish I could go back in my delorean with the Doc. Things are as they are and that's that. My entire coverage of LFW live, did not exist. I seriously want to cry. I will be honest and say I have already shed a few tears. I will be back next week with new posts and show off a few photos I did take and give some reviews of the hot London designs for spring/summer 2010. Hope all your lovelies have a fantastic weekend and week to come! I will return Oct. 1. xoxo Peace and Love.


text: Jolldan 14,274 Report post Posted January 9 https://www.bjpenn.com/mma-news/ufc/karolina-kowalkiewicz-vs-michelle-waterson-added-to-ufc-philadelphia/ The UFC announced that their second event on the ESPN channel will be taking place at the Wells Fargo Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The event got its first bout in a strawweight affair between top prospects Alexa Grasso (10-2) and Marina Rodriguez (10-0-1) after it was moved from UFC Fortaleza due to a Rodriguez injury. However, we now know the second official matchup and it too will take place at 115-pounds. ESPN's Brett Okamoto confirmed that top 10 contenders Karolina Kowalkiewicz (12-3) and "The Karate Hottie" Michelle Waterson (16-6) will square off at the March 30 event. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites


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Used to protect Subsea wellhead/X-mas tree H4 connector.
• Negligable conductivity - no corrosion
• 15-20 kg submerged - easy ROVhandling - ROV can handle it by itself
• 120 kg in air
• Simple and fast installation
• Material will not damage connector
• Field proven
• Can be filled with preservation fluids to prevent corrosion of H4 connector
Feel free to rotate and observe the product in the 3D model below. It may take some time to load.


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- Catered Receptions
- Multicultural Funerals
Recent Obituaries
Our amenities
The Caballero Rivero Hialeah funeral home offers spacious private chapels, which feature wall-mounted television screens for presenting video tributes of loved ones during services. Ample parking is available for more than 100 cars.
We are a proud member of the Dignity Memorial® network of funeral, cremation and cemetery service providers, offering quality, compassionate care and service you can trust.
Catered receptions
Welcome your friends and family with a catered reception to honor the life of your loved one. At Caballero Rivero Hialeah, we offer catering services for anything from desserts or appetizers to lunch or dinner. Our choice menus include pastelitos and even a deluxe espresso and cappuccino cart.
The Caballero and Rivero families opened their first funeral home in Havana, Cuba in the 1800s. The Caballero and Rivero families' tradition in funeral service continued when they moved to the United States in the 1960s and opened their first funeral home in Miami.
In the 1990s, the Caballero and Rivero families joined with Woodlawn Park Cemeteries and Funeral Home, combining the excellent Caballero and Rivero funeral services with Woodlawn Park's outstanding cemeteries.
"Service was great. No complaint."
Verified Burial & Memorial Service Customer
June 2019
"Extremly satisfied with all staff & services. God bless all."
Verified Cremation Customer
February 2019
"Awesome experience highly recommended"
Verified Burial & Memorial Service Customer
January 2019
"The funeral director at the carballero located on okeechobee is excellent. She was very accommodating with a very delicate and personal situation. Thank you for that, which made me feel at ease at t)..."See More
Verified Burial & Memorial Service Customer
December 2018
"The location of the cementery is to far from my address. My husband and i do have cementery prearrangements w/ you."
Verified Burial & Memorial Service Customer
October 2018
Here for you when you need us
Meet our associates


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Memorandum of Understanding
On June 29, 2010, a Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) was signed between the Department of Interior (DOI) and the Department of Energy (DOE) to coordinate deployment of offshore renewable energy technologies. The initiatives for coordination and working groups outlined are:
The MOU and initiatives to be undertaken were showcased at a public session by the DOE, Office of Energy Efficiency and Renewable Energy, and BOEM preceding the American Wind Energy Association North American Offshore Wind Conference and Exhibition in New Jersey in early October 2010.
Working in partnership with DOE has led to substantial cooperation on renewable energy environmental information projects. Studies underway support the needs of both agencies and the partnership has made it possible to achieve more effort than either would alone.
Coordination has led to multiple research projects and several workshops:


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General purpose microfibre towel, perfect for many detailing tasks. Read More
13 In Stock. Order now for delivery on Tuesday, 27th August. (Select Next Day Delivery at checkout.)
13 In Stock
Ex Tax: £1.04
- 12 or more £1.00
- Brand: ShopnShine
- Product Code: GPMF
General Purpose Microfibre Towel Grey
Our general purpose grey microfibre can be used for many detailing tasks like buffing Polishes, Sealants, Waxes and Quick Detailers, Glass Cleaning, and much more!
Size: 40 x 40cm


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Log Name: System
Source: Microsoft-Windows-SharedAccess_NAT
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Event ID: 31004
Task Category: None
Level: Error
Keywords: Classic
User: N/A
Computer: XXXXXXXXXXXX
The DNS proxy agent was unable to allocate 0 bytes of memory. This may indicate that the system is low on virtual memory, or that the memory manager has encountered an internal error.
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Pakistani fancy dresses
Today, I'm going to share with you the newest styles Pakistani fancy dresses. Pakistani fancy dresses are not only popular among Pakistani women, they are also appreciated internationally. Pakistani fancy dresses are used to wear on weddings, festive, events and all types of parties. Women from other countries also demand for Pakistani fancy dresses for parties and functions. You can find startling Pakistani fancy dresses with different cuts, amazing styles and simple to heavy embellishment, traditional to modern patterns and embroideries.
Let's have a glance at the latest designed Pakistani fancy dresses by famous and most demanding fashion designers and clothing brands. This will help you to select your ideal designs and perfect items for any wedding, occasion and event. Here you can check Pakistani fancy dresses.
Latest Fashion Trends in Pakistan
If you are interested to know about latest fashion trends in Pakistan, we have best sources to provide you most recent information about latest fashion trends in Pakistan. Visit Latest fashion trends in Pakistan link that will give you a good ideas about latest fashion trends in Pakistan.
Spring Party dresses
We are stepping in the spring summer 2018 that is bringing us many national and religious festive. When we are going to attend any party or event, it's a common thing that we think about searching for perfect, ideal and newest style party dresses and fashion accessories. Don't worry we are here to help you to find latest styles spring party dresses. Have a look at Latest spring party dresses that will help you to choose ideal dresses for any spring party, festive and event.
Pakistani Fancy dresses online Shopping
Internet has made a piece of cake buying goods or services online. Mostly, people prefer to buy goods over internet instead of going for shopping at any market. In Pakistan online shopping has become a popular trend. People want to save their time by buying goods online. But there are also some problems of online shopping. Sometimes people book online order but they didn't find best quality material. It is also very difficult to choose finest quality goods and stuff online. Moreover, people are confused for selecting the items of latest styling. Especially women prefer online shopping and they search for latest styling fashion accessories as well. They faced difficulties to find online retailers who are providing high quality material.
Here we are sharing with you designer party wear, formal wear, festival, and wedding wear dresses by reputed clothing labels. Because it is an intricate matter to chose best quality stuff as well. All these brands' assortment that we are sharing with you is providing high quality Pakistani fancy dresses online. Hopefully, you will choose your favorite items with great satisfaction and this will surely make Pakistani fancy dresses online shopping easier.
Pakistani Fancy Dresses Online Shopping Reviewed by Unknown on Monday, March 05, 2018 Rating:


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I was walking my dog down docking lane in West Ashby and near one of the passing places, in a dyke, are lots of tyres and a large gas bottle used for welding or Oxy acetylene bottle, which will be very hard and heavy to move.
People collecting scrap metal shouldn't be encouraged to also ask if they can take additional items away - we all have to pay through taxes for this fly tipping to be removed, or on private land the land owners will have to pay. (submitted via email)