`...I've written dozens of crappy stories and poems that no one has ever read, and to me those stories are dead. They have not been given life by the reader, so they just end up being words without meaning...' This sounds like a cry from the heart. Lomanno must not give up hope. I found his text profoundly moving & evocative. As I read, almost immediately there appeared before my mind's eye - a bed. A big, warm, cosy bed in which a man might go to sleep. Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care. Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course. And if a bed why not a girl to share that sleep ? A lovely big juicy girl with bouncy hair & inviting lips & with a fund of government anecdotes. Or a jolly sun-kissed girl from the outback with a penchant for literary theory ..... So it went. A rather more engaging piece of writing than any of old Jerome's agonisings. I look forward the next installment with eagerness. Scottie B.