[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.There ought to be a clue in that.Whatcould possibly explain the emptiness that took a chunk out of the middle ofhis body?Page 112 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlWhile he sat, people walking by glanced at him.It didn t bother him at first.Soon, though, they began to stare more openly.Immersed in his pensive mood,he ignored them.What did they want? If they needed directions, he couldn tgive them.He was a stranger there, too.It was when the cluster of small menwith black hair and glasses stopped to photograph him that he becameuncomfortable.He wasn t a tourist attraction! Then, he noticed the group ofart students in smocks over tight black clothing sitting a short distance awaydoodling in sketch pads, glancing up at him all the while.They were drawinghim! Chuck leaped up and waved his arms at them. Stop it! This isn t helping! The art students turned into a flock of pigeons and flew away.The Japanesetourists vanished in a single flash of light.He was alone in the square, nota soul in view.That was better.If Dreamlanders were supposed to serve him,those were the worst examples of therapy he had ever seen.He settled downagain to think.How could he pin down the source of his troubles and put itinto words?As softly as a whisper, footsteps brushed near, and as quickly scurried awayfrom him.Chuck glanced over.A bunch of flowers sat on the bench beside him.Chuck looked up to see a child vanishing around the corner of a stall.Hesmiled, touched by the kindness.He must really look sad.Abook fell onto his lap.Chuck read the title:What To Name Your Anxiety?The donor, an older woman who reminded him of Mrs.Flannel, gave him a shysmile.Chuck returned it, already thumbing through the pages.Names jumped upat him like performance anxiety and Cinderella syndrome. He read down thelong lists of multisyllabic diagnoses, but none of them seemed to feel exactlyright.The book shed no light on his problem at all.Suddenly, a brilliant spotlight hit him, dousing the scene around him intodarkness.Applause from a thousand pairs of hands broke out. Chuck Meadows! a deep voice announced from somewhere beyond the spotlight. Are you ready to solve the puzzle? Chuck stood up, discovering he was behind a waist-high desk, and a sequin-cladwoman was clapping her hands together beside a game board full of giantletters.He peered at the parts of words that had already been revealed._ _ D _ _ _ _ _ R _ _ _ _It didn t ring any bells. Not yet, he said. Um, can I.uh, can I buy avowel? I m so sorry! the enthusiastic voice said, heartily. We have none! Only youcan complete the phrase! Chuck found he had a sheaf of the huge letters inhis hands.He spread them out on the little desk.There were at least two ofevery letter. I could spell almost anything with these, he said. Yes! But only one phrase will win the game! Go ahead, Chuck! Give it a try! Chuck started to put together words. Worry didn t fit on the board.Neitherdid unhappiness, inadequacy, or discontentment. To his bewilderment, the game board startedto move around, leaving different word-length gaps.He was afraid to make achoice. What if I m wrong? Then you get a copy of our home game, the voice exclaimed. And the chanceto come back next week and try again. Well, he didn t want to do that.But none of the words he could make put aname to his sorrow.How could he express in a simple phrase the deep unhappiness of his life? Howcould he designate the hollowness in his heart that was so much larger thanthe hole already there? The unseen crowd whispered.Chuck was embarrassed thateveryone was looking at him. Do you see? Keir s voice echoed over the public address system. They wantto help, but they can t make the determination for you.They can t solvePage 113 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlproblems you can t frame.Tell them. Chuck felt the hole.Was it getting larger, or was that just hispanic-stricken imagination playing tricks on him? He opened his mouth.Thecrowd hushed, expectant, waiting.Hastily, Chuck clapped his lips shut again.He couldn t stand to show that much vulnerability in public.What if he showedthe gap in his heart right there and then, and they laughed at him? He didn twant to be ridiculed by strangers.The broad darkness beyond the bright lightoverwhelmed him. I.I can t. He broke away from the desk amid murmuring from the audience.There had to bea way out of here.He started feeling around for a way off the stage.A thin, bony hand grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him toward stairs thatled into the darkness offstage.Within a few steps he was back in daylight inthe bazaar.Keir let go of his arm. No luck? the guide asked.Chuck hung his head. No. Never mind, Keir said, with a friendly slap on the back. Let it be.Let sget the others.I have some other interesting places to show you. As they walked back among the stalls toward the bridge, Keir shot off into thecrowd now and again, to return with one or another of his clients in tow.Persemid was the first to be found.She had replaced several of her suitcaseswith a large, handsome, brown leather bag painted in an Indian motif.A wave of change must have come through during the game show, because shelooked like an Asian, wrapped in a beautiful brown sari edged in silver andgold embroidery.Chuck realized he was similarly clad, his jeans andsweatshirt replaced by loose-fitting trousers and tunic of blue silk.He likedthe new clothes.They felt elegant and cool on his skin.Hiramus, unearthedfrom yet another bookstall, was also dressed in silks, a long tunic overflowing trousers tucked into black boots and a black, cone-shaped felt cap.His mustache was long and black, and there was a fierce curved sword stuckinto his sash.He had a small package under his arm that he tucked into hiscarpetbag while he walked.Sean, similarly dressed, strutted alongside themwith a tipsy gait.He grinned easily at them, the most relaxed he d been sincetheir journey together had begun.Chuck guessed he d found the localequivalent of a pub.Other travelers joined the queue heading back over thebridge.Instead of a train or a jet, what was waiting for them on the plateau was astring of elephants, lined up trunk to tail.The engineer, dressed in silkswith a tall green plume sticking up from his cap, sat on the neck of the leadelephant, and the fireman, in white loincloth and regulation hat, stoodalongside with a shovel that Chuck doubted was for coal.Other passengers hadarrived back, and were lining up beside the appropriate beast.Keir stood by the third elephant, gesturing his party to board.Chuck assistedMrs.Flannel up the ladder to the howdah, where the married couple from Elysiawas already sitting.There was barely room for them all with their luggage.Chuck was pleased to see that he d managed to shed one of his small bags.Theygot settled hip to hip when Keir started to do a head count.Chuck lookedaround and groaned. Pip isn t back yet. What it about her? Persemid said, peevishly. It s as if she doesn t knowtime exists. is There s one in every group, Chuck agreed [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl przylepto3.keep.pl
.There ought to be a clue in that.Whatcould possibly explain the emptiness that took a chunk out of the middle ofhis body?Page 112 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlWhile he sat, people walking by glanced at him.It didn t bother him at first.Soon, though, they began to stare more openly.Immersed in his pensive mood,he ignored them.What did they want? If they needed directions, he couldn tgive them.He was a stranger there, too.It was when the cluster of small menwith black hair and glasses stopped to photograph him that he becameuncomfortable.He wasn t a tourist attraction! Then, he noticed the group ofart students in smocks over tight black clothing sitting a short distance awaydoodling in sketch pads, glancing up at him all the while.They were drawinghim! Chuck leaped up and waved his arms at them. Stop it! This isn t helping! The art students turned into a flock of pigeons and flew away.The Japanesetourists vanished in a single flash of light.He was alone in the square, nota soul in view.That was better.If Dreamlanders were supposed to serve him,those were the worst examples of therapy he had ever seen.He settled downagain to think.How could he pin down the source of his troubles and put itinto words?As softly as a whisper, footsteps brushed near, and as quickly scurried awayfrom him.Chuck glanced over.A bunch of flowers sat on the bench beside him.Chuck looked up to see a child vanishing around the corner of a stall.Hesmiled, touched by the kindness.He must really look sad.Abook fell onto his lap.Chuck read the title:What To Name Your Anxiety?The donor, an older woman who reminded him of Mrs.Flannel, gave him a shysmile.Chuck returned it, already thumbing through the pages.Names jumped upat him like performance anxiety and Cinderella syndrome. He read down thelong lists of multisyllabic diagnoses, but none of them seemed to feel exactlyright.The book shed no light on his problem at all.Suddenly, a brilliant spotlight hit him, dousing the scene around him intodarkness.Applause from a thousand pairs of hands broke out. Chuck Meadows! a deep voice announced from somewhere beyond the spotlight. Are you ready to solve the puzzle? Chuck stood up, discovering he was behind a waist-high desk, and a sequin-cladwoman was clapping her hands together beside a game board full of giantletters.He peered at the parts of words that had already been revealed._ _ D _ _ _ _ _ R _ _ _ _It didn t ring any bells. Not yet, he said. Um, can I.uh, can I buy avowel? I m so sorry! the enthusiastic voice said, heartily. We have none! Only youcan complete the phrase! Chuck found he had a sheaf of the huge letters inhis hands.He spread them out on the little desk.There were at least two ofevery letter. I could spell almost anything with these, he said. Yes! But only one phrase will win the game! Go ahead, Chuck! Give it a try! Chuck started to put together words. Worry didn t fit on the board.Neitherdid unhappiness, inadequacy, or discontentment. To his bewilderment, the game board startedto move around, leaving different word-length gaps.He was afraid to make achoice. What if I m wrong? Then you get a copy of our home game, the voice exclaimed. And the chanceto come back next week and try again. Well, he didn t want to do that.But none of the words he could make put aname to his sorrow.How could he express in a simple phrase the deep unhappiness of his life? Howcould he designate the hollowness in his heart that was so much larger thanthe hole already there? The unseen crowd whispered.Chuck was embarrassed thateveryone was looking at him. Do you see? Keir s voice echoed over the public address system. They wantto help, but they can t make the determination for you.They can t solvePage 113 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlproblems you can t frame.Tell them. Chuck felt the hole.Was it getting larger, or was that just hispanic-stricken imagination playing tricks on him? He opened his mouth.Thecrowd hushed, expectant, waiting.Hastily, Chuck clapped his lips shut again.He couldn t stand to show that much vulnerability in public.What if he showedthe gap in his heart right there and then, and they laughed at him? He didn twant to be ridiculed by strangers.The broad darkness beyond the bright lightoverwhelmed him. I.I can t. He broke away from the desk amid murmuring from the audience.There had to bea way out of here.He started feeling around for a way off the stage.A thin, bony hand grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him toward stairs thatled into the darkness offstage.Within a few steps he was back in daylight inthe bazaar.Keir let go of his arm. No luck? the guide asked.Chuck hung his head. No. Never mind, Keir said, with a friendly slap on the back. Let it be.Let sget the others.I have some other interesting places to show you. As they walked back among the stalls toward the bridge, Keir shot off into thecrowd now and again, to return with one or another of his clients in tow.Persemid was the first to be found.She had replaced several of her suitcaseswith a large, handsome, brown leather bag painted in an Indian motif.A wave of change must have come through during the game show, because shelooked like an Asian, wrapped in a beautiful brown sari edged in silver andgold embroidery.Chuck realized he was similarly clad, his jeans andsweatshirt replaced by loose-fitting trousers and tunic of blue silk.He likedthe new clothes.They felt elegant and cool on his skin.Hiramus, unearthedfrom yet another bookstall, was also dressed in silks, a long tunic overflowing trousers tucked into black boots and a black, cone-shaped felt cap.His mustache was long and black, and there was a fierce curved sword stuckinto his sash.He had a small package under his arm that he tucked into hiscarpetbag while he walked.Sean, similarly dressed, strutted alongside themwith a tipsy gait.He grinned easily at them, the most relaxed he d been sincetheir journey together had begun.Chuck guessed he d found the localequivalent of a pub.Other travelers joined the queue heading back over thebridge.Instead of a train or a jet, what was waiting for them on the plateau was astring of elephants, lined up trunk to tail.The engineer, dressed in silkswith a tall green plume sticking up from his cap, sat on the neck of the leadelephant, and the fireman, in white loincloth and regulation hat, stoodalongside with a shovel that Chuck doubted was for coal.Other passengers hadarrived back, and were lining up beside the appropriate beast.Keir stood by the third elephant, gesturing his party to board.Chuck assistedMrs.Flannel up the ladder to the howdah, where the married couple from Elysiawas already sitting.There was barely room for them all with their luggage.Chuck was pleased to see that he d managed to shed one of his small bags.Theygot settled hip to hip when Keir started to do a head count.Chuck lookedaround and groaned. Pip isn t back yet. What it about her? Persemid said, peevishly. It s as if she doesn t knowtime exists. is There s one in every group, Chuck agreed [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]