Crime And Human Rights Criminology Of Genocide And...

For the book review assignment, I chose to read â€Å"Crime and Human Rights: Criminology of Genocide and Atrocities†. I chose this book, because the study of genocide is interesting to me, in learning about why it happens and how to stop it from happening in the future. In regards to the essay, it is going to be broken into three different parts. The first part, which is planned to be about half of the essay, will talk about a couple of the major themes of the book. The second part will consist of showing how the book is tied to content we have learned in class. And to wrap up the paper, I will talk about some of the strengths and weaknesses of the book. The first major theme I am going to talk about is the criminology of genocide and how it unfolds. In explaining the criminology of genocide, the book used historical cases of genocide to explain their reasons for genocide unfolding. First off, according to the book, genocide is more likely to happen in countries with a weak g overnment (Savelsberg 3). In other words, any country that has lack of leadership and control of the people are more likely to be prone to genocide occurring. Other factors that can contribute to genocide are racism and any political upheaval. In explaining why and how genocide unfolds, the book used the example of the holocaust in order to provide a real life situation to put the concepts to life. The book examines the steps that it took for the German genocidal regime to be put into place. This helps giveShow MoreRelatedThe, Socio Economics And Critical Legal Theories Essay973 Words   |  4 Pagesscientific evidences, hence, these legal arguments further gather force and liveliness .In this context, using the templates and thoughts from green criminology, public-international law’, wild-life law, jurisprudence, Human Rights, International environmental law, (treaties, national law and Customary law)as well as tort law ,the author will argue that, as a crime of strict liab ility, ecocide is a true representation of all disciplines and hence is a pragmatic remedy for 21st century challenge. Insofar

President Trump Once Said, “I Like Thinking Big. If You’Re

President Trump once said, â€Å"I like thinking big. If you’re going to be thinking anything, why not think big?†1 President Trump shares the mindset that many Americans had after the war of 1812. The United States citizens of the early 1800s felt an obligation to push the boundaries of the United States to the Pacific Ocean. John O’Sullivan was the first person to use the term â€Å"manifest destiny† in 1845 in an edition of the United States Magazine and Democratic Review. He said, â€Å"Our manifest destiny to overspread the continent allotted by Providence for the free development of our yearly multiplying millions.†2 He could not have been anymore correct as Americans everywhere accepted that this was what the country was destined to be as it moved†¦show more content†¦Only fifty eight percent of eligible voters participated in the 2016 election. The main thing people of the time were interested in was economic development. Two major political moves were enacted to stimulate the economy. The first one was â€Å"granting corporate charters to private businesses to promote private investment in roads, bridges, canals, railroads, banks, iron mining, etc.†3 The second was â€Å"using private corporations for public purposes by promoting economic development thought to be for the good of all.†3 Westward expansions grew, along with the economy. The United States took lands in the southwest to bring development and enlightenment to that area. The removal of Native Americans brought up the question of the morals the American people had. Some said it was because the wild Indians did not fit into eastern society. Some said driving them to new lands was so they could continue their barbaric lifestyles elsewhere. These statements contained much hypocrisy. Not all of the Natives were civilized, but many Native American tribes had literacy rates higher than white southerners. A large amount of tribes in the sout h were successful farmers, but they were still forced west. The Natives in the north found much success in trade, but they were still forced west. By the late 1800s, the United States border was ranging from coast to coast. The United States had become a prominent world power in aShow MoreRelatedFast Fashion On Fast Food Industry2279 Words   |  10 Pagesmiddleman for people to recycle and reconnect with goods that have been passed along. Shopping at places like Goodwill are cheaper then buying new and friendlier to the environment, a shopper of the store said about the clothes, â€Å"It was owned by someone living somewhere at some point and it already had a life and I m here to give it maybe a second or third life† (4B). Wearing used clothing was once an indicator of poverty, but it has been rebranded as â€Å"vintage† and gives a nod to sustainability becauseRead MoreNike Football: World Cup 2010 South Africa12246 Words   |  49 Pagesexperiences. 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Tomorrow you will learn more, create more, inspire more.† Chairman of the Executive Committee, Intuit Inc. â€Å" e Innovator’s DNA sheds new light on the once-mysterious art of innovation by showing that successful innovatorsRead MoreFounder-Ceo Succession at Wily Technology9042 Words   |  37 Pagesjob as Wily’s CEO, Williams Wanted Cirne to also give up the chairman position that Cirne had held since Wily’s founding. As he stared out the window, Cirne wondered how he should react: Just how much am I going to have to give up to make this thing a success? When is it too much? Is this step i going over the line?† As he thought back through Wily’s history, he also wondered what he could have done differently to avoid having to step down so soon as Wily’s CEO. ä ½â€ Ã¦Ëœ ¯Ã¯ ¼Å'ç ¶â€œÃ© Å½Ã¤ ¸Å Ã¤ ¸â‚¬Ã¨ ¼ ªÃ§Å¡â€žÃ¨Å¾ Ã¨ ³â€¡Ã¯ ¼Å'Ã¥Å" ¨Ã¨â‚¬ Ã¨ ¬â‚¬Ã¦ · ±Ã§ ®â€"çš„é  ËœÃ¥â€¦Ë†Ã© ¢ ¨Ã©Å¡ ªÃ¦Å â€¢Ã¨ ³â€¡Ã¥ ® ¶Ã§Å¡â€žÃ¦Å½Ë†Ã¦â€ž Ã¤ ¸â€¹Ã¯ ¼Å'CiRead MoreEssay on 16 Day Coursebook BOWS27896 Words   |  112 PagesEverything Else Scanning 101 Journaling Brokers News Sources/ Blogs Using Our Platforms Additional Charts Chapter 1 – Introduction I started trading in my first year of college. After placing my first trade in Exodus Communications, I was hooked. It was all I thought about and wanted to study. As I was learning my craft I had many ups and downs. I had times where I had large amounts of money in the bank and then days later it could all be gone. Such is the life of a 19 year old trader who has noRead MoreStephen P. Robbins Timothy A. Judge (2011) Organizational Behaviour 15th Edition New Jersey: Prentice Hall393164 Words   |  1573 PagesLibrary of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Robbins, Stephen P. Organizational behavior / Stephen P. Robbins, Timothy A. Judge. — 15th ed. p. cm. Includes indexes. ISBN-13: 978-0-13-283487-2 ISBN-10: 0-13-283487-1 1. Organizational behavior. I. Judge, Tim. II. Title. HD58.7.R62 2012 658.3—dc23 2011038674 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 ISBN 10: 0-13-283487-1 ISBN 13: 978-0-13-283487-2 Brief Contents Preface xxii 1 2 Introduction 1 What Is Organizational Behavior? 3 The Individual Read MoreMarketing Mistakes and Successes175322 Words   |  702 PagesELEVENTH EDITION MARKETING MISTAKES AND SUCCESSES 30TH ANNIVERSARY Robert F. Hartley Cleveland State University JOHN WILEY SONS, INC. VICE PRESIDENT PUBLISHER EXECUTIVE EDITOR ASSISTANT EDITOR PRODUCTION MANAGER PRODUCTION ASSISTANT EXECUTIVE MARKETING MANAGER ASSISTANT MARKETING MANAGER MARKETING ASSISTANT DESIGN DIRECTOR SENIOR DESIGNER SENIOR MEDIA EDITOR George Hoffman Lise Johnson Carissa Doshi Dorothy Sinclair Matt Winslow Amy Scholz Carly DeCandia Read MoreCrossing the Chasm76808 Words   |  308 Pages0-06-018987-8 The original hardcover edition of this book was published in 1991 by HarperBusiness, a division of HarperCollins Publishers. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 To Marie Contents PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION FOREWORD ACKNOWLEDGMENTS PART I Discovering the Chasm INTRODUCTION If Bill Gates Can Be a Billionaire 1 High-Tech Marketing Illusion 2 High-Tech Marketing Enlightenment PART II Crossing the Chasm 3 The D-Day Analogy v vi Contents 4 Target the Point ofRead MoreExploring Corporate Strategy - Case164366 Words   |  658 Pagesso-called ‘Second Summer of Love’, strongly associated with recreational drugs. By the early 1990s, drug-dealing in its most ugly sense had become part of the dance culture. Palumbo recalled: When I came into this business, with my bonuses and my nice City suits, I was completely naà ¯ve. Just a joke. I found that every Friday and Saturday night my door was taking  £30,000 and the security team was making  £40,000 on Ecstasy. It happens everywhere in the UK leisure business. There are all these fatRead MoreLibrary Management204752 Words   |  820 Pagesinformation science text series) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978–1–59158–408–7 (alk. paper) ISBN 978–1–59158–406–3 (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Library administration—United States. 2. Information services— United States—Management. I. Moran, Barbara B. II. Title. Z678.S799 2007 025.1—dc22 2007007922 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available. Copyright  © 2007 by Robert D. Stueart and Barbara B. Moran All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced

Oleanna by David Mamet The Birmingham Stage Company, directed by John Harrison Essay Example For Students

Oleanna by David Mamet The Birmingham Stage Company, directed by John Harrison Essay The Birmingham Stage Company is the resident company of the Old Rep Theatre. Its patrons are Sir Derek Jacobi and Paul Scofield. The company is unfounded and relies mainly on box office income. Company productions include Speed-The-Plow by David Mamet, The Crucible by Arthur Miller and The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams. The present production by The Birmingham Stage Company is David Mamets Oleanna. David Mamet is a contemporary writer well known for his shocking and controversial plays. While Oleanna doesnt have Mamets infamous swearing, it does pack all the other Mamet traits; realistic, ping pong dialogue and lots of conflict. There are only two people in the play, John Neal Foster and Carol Sophie Bold. John is a university professor his subject is not clear, although one would assume he teaches psychology. Carol is his failing student who he offers to talk to and help her understand his subject. Carols background is unclear and gets more so as the play progresses. In the first session John uses a number of examples to try to get what he is saying across to Carol who is still struggling to understand. Each time John starts to get somewhere with Carol the telephone rings and interrupts what he is trying to say. That is how act one ends with Carol about to say something which could determine the outcome of the play but is interrupted by the telephone. In act two the relationship between the two characters is totally different to what it was in act one. The act opens with John and Carol in the office again, however the ambience is a lot less relaxed and we soon find out that Carol has lodged a complaint to the university tenure committee because she thinks John to be elitist, hypocritical and she accuses him of sexual harassment. When act three opens John is accused of rape and Carol is trying to get his book banned. When Carol tells John that she is trying to ban his book, this as this is the final straw because she is trying to take away the only thing that he believes in anymore and he ends the play by beating Carol up. All of the action takes place over about month. We dont actually see the action, more the aftermath of it. Oleanna has many themes but the most poignant are sexual harassment, political correctness and power. John gives an example of his elitist attitude when he gives talks about the sexual behaviour of the Rich and poor. He starts by saying, A college friend once told me that poor people copulate more then rich people do, but rich people take more of their cloths offà ¢Ã¢â€š ¬Ã‚ ¦ Carol interprets this as elitism. Again John displays power when he continuously finishes off Carols sentences in the first act. Carol strives for political correctness when she seeks Justice for what John has done. Director John Harrison made the set simple because of the budget and for effect. He does add one symbolic twist, there is a mock tree in the background and in the first act a rich, golden light is cast upon it; this is in contrast to the atmosphere and how John is feeling. At the beginning of act two the light has changed to a dark green and this again symbolises Johns feelings, the atmosphere and the hostile intentions Carol has for John. In act three the light cast upon the tree is a very dark blue and this symbolises the throbbing hatred John has for Carol. Also the only other lighting in act three was an overhead strip light which gives the feeling of an interrogation room. Harrison also used a raked stage with a small wharf at the end, which was not raked. The raked sage was used so the audience could see better and the seating arrangement was quite steep which made the audiences view even better. Another method used by Harrison was to change Johns appearance in each act. In act one John is dressed smartly. .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e , .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e .postImageUrl , .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e , .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e:hover , .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e:visited , .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e:active { border:0!important; } .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e:active , .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u1dd645cb419bd4cfdaad5c433f2fa14e:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Character Analysis - Ordinary People EssayHe is wearing a suite with a tie and smart shoes. In the second act John appears scruffier with messy hair and he was without his jacket, his tie was loosened and he was also wearing casual shoes. In the third act he was without his tie, his sleeves were rolled up and his hair was a complete mess. There were differences in Carols dress not much in the third scene but in the first scene Carol was wearing a short skirt and a T-shirt. In the second scene Carlo wore a long skirt. This made her look more formal even though it wasnt particularly formal.

The Virgin by Kerima Polotan Tuvera Essay Example

The Virgin by Kerima Polotan Tuvera Essay He went to where Miss Mijares sat, a tall, big man, walking with an economy of movement, graceful and light, a man who knew his body and used it well. He sat in the low chair worn decrepit by countless other interviewers and laid all ten fingerprints carefully on the edge of her desk. She pushed a sheet towards him, rolling a pencil along with it. While he read the question and wrote down his answers, she glanced at her watch and saw that it was ten. I shall be coming back quickly, she said, speaking distinctly in the dialect (you were never sure about these people on their first visit, if they could speak English, or even write at all, the poor were always proud and to use the dialect with them was an act of charity), you will wait for me. As she walked to the cafeteria, Miss Mijares thought how she could easily have said, Please wait for me, or will you wait for me? But years of working for the placement section had dulled the edges of her instinct for courtesy. She spoke now pere mtorily, with an abruptness she knew annoyed the people about her. When she talked with the jobless across her desk, asking them the damning questions that completed their humiliation, watching pale tongues run over dry lips, dirt crusted handkerchiefs flutter in trembling hands, she was filled with an impatience she could not understand. Sign here, she had said thousands of times, pushing the familiar form across, her finger held to a line, feeling the impatience grow at sight of the man or woman tracing a wavering X or laying the impress of a thumb. Invariably, Miss Mijares would turn away to touch the delicate edge of the handkerchief she wore on her breast. We will write a custom essay sample on The Virgin by Kerima Polotan Tuvera specifically for you for only $16.38 $13.9/page Order now We will write a custom essay sample on The Virgin by Kerima Polotan Tuvera specifically for you FOR ONLY $16.38 $13.9/page Hire Writer We will write a custom essay sample on The Virgin by Kerima Polotan Tuvera specifically for you FOR ONLY $16.38 $13.9/page Hire Writer Where she sat alone at one of the cafeteria tables, Miss Mijares did not look 34. She was slight, almost bony, but she had learned early how to dress herself to achieve an illusion of hips and bosom. She liked poufs and shirrings and little girlish pastel colors. On her bodice, astride or lengthwise, there sat an inevitable row of thick camouflaging ruffles that made her look almost as though she had a bosom, if she bent her shoulders slightly and inconspicuously drew her neckline open to puff some air into her bodice. Her brow was smooth and clear and she was always pushing off it the hair she kept in tight curls at night. She had thin cheeks, small and angular, falling down to what would have been a nondescript, receding chin, but Natures hand had erred and given her a jaw instead. When displeased, she had a lippy, almost sensual pout, surprising on such a small face. So while not exactly an ugly woman, she was no beauty. She teetered precariously on the border line to which belonged countless others who you found, if they were not working at some job, in the kitchen of some married sisters house shushing a brood of devilish little nephews. And yet Miss Mijares did think of love. Secret, short-lived thoughts flitted through her mind in the jeepneys she took to work when a man pressed down beside her and through her dress she felt the curve of his thigh; when she held a baby in her arms, a married friends baby or a relatives, holding in her hands the tiny, pulsing body, what thoughts did she not think, her eyes straying against her will to the bedroom door and then to her friends laughing, talking face, to think: how did it look now, spread upon a pillow, unmasked of the little wayward coquetries, how went the lines about the mouth and beneath the eyes: (did they close? did they open? in the one final, fatal coquetry of all? to finally, miserably bury her face in the babys hair. And in the movies, to sink into a seat as into an embrace, in the darkness with a hundred shadowy figures about her and high on the screen, a man kissing a womans mouth while her own fingers stole unconsciously to her unbruised lips. When she was younger, there had been other things to do college to finish, a niece to put through school, a mother to care for. She had gone through all these with singular patience, for it had seemed to her that love stood behind her, biding her time, a quiet hand upon her shoulder (I wait. Do not despair) so that if she wished she had but to turn from her mothers bed to see the man and all her timid, pure dreams would burst into glory. But it had taken her parent many years to die. Towards the end, it had become a thankless chore, kneading her mothers loose flesh, hour after hour, struggling to awaken the cold, sluggish blood in her drying body. In the end, she had died her toothless, thin-haired, flabby-fleshed mother and Miss Mijares had pushed against the bed in grief and also in gratitude. But neither love nor glory stood behind her, only the empty shadows, and nine years gone, nine years. In the room for her unburied dead, she had held up her hands to the light, noting the thick, durable fingers, thinking in a mixture of shame and bitterness and guilt that they had never touched a man. When she returned to the bleak replacement office, the man stood by a window, his back to her, half-bending over something he held in his hands. Here, she said, approaching, have you signed this? Yes, he replied, facing her. In his hands, he held her paperweight, an old gift from long ago, a heavy wooden block on which stood, as though poised for flight, an undistinguished, badly done bird. It had come apart recently. The screws beneath the block had loosened so that lately it had stood upon her desk with one wing tilted unevenly, a miniature eagle or swallow? felled by time before it could spread its wings. She had laughed and laughed that day it had fallen on her desk, plop! What happened? What happened? they had asked her, beginning to laugh, and she had said, caught between amusement and sharp despair, Some one shot it, and she had laughed and laughed till faces turned and eyebrows rose and she told herself, whoa, get a hold, a hold, a hold! He had turned it and with a penknife tightened the screws and dusted it. In this mans hands, cupped like that, it looked suddenly like a dove. She took it away from him and put it down on her table. Then she picked up his paper and read it. He was a high school graduate. He was also a carpenter. He was not starved, like the rest. His clothes, though old, were pressed and she could see the cuffs of his shirt buttoned and wrapped about big, strong wrists. I heard about this place, he said, from a friend you got a job at the pier. Seated, he towered over her, Im not starving yet, he said with a quick smile. I still got some money from that last job, but my team broke up after that and you got too many jobs if youre working alone. You know carpentering, he continued, you cant finish a job quickly enough if you got to do the planing and sawing and nailing all by your lone self. You got to be on a team. Perhaps he was not meaning to be impolite? But for a jobseeker, Miss Mijares thought, he talked too much and without call. He was bursting all over with an obtruding insolence that at once disarmed and annoyed her. So then she drew a slip and wrote his name on it. Since you are not starving yet, she said, speaking in English now, wanting to put him in his place, you will not mind working in our woodcraft section, three times a week at two-fifty to four a day, depending on your skill and the foremans discretion, for two or three months after which there might be a call from outside we may hold for you. Thank you, he said. He came on the odd days, Tuesday, Thursday, Sunday. She was often down at the shanty that housed their bureaus woodcraft, talking with Ato, his foreman, going over with him the list of old hands due for release. They hired their men on a rotation basis and three months was the longest one could stay. The new one there, hey, Ato said once. Were breaking him in proper. And he looked across several shirted backs to where he stopped, planing what was to become the side of a bookcase. How much was he going to get? Miss Mijares asked Ato on Wednesday. Three, the old man said, chewing away on a cud. She looked at the list in her hands, quickly running a pencil down. But hes filling a four-peso vacancy, she said. Come now, surprised that she should wheedle so, give him the extra peso. Only a half, the stubborn foreman shook his head, three-fifty. Ato says I have you to thank, he said, stopping Miss Mijares along a pathway in the compound. It was noon, that unhappy hour of the day when she was oldest, tiredest, when it seemed the sun put forth cruel fingers to search out the signs of age on her thin, pinched face. The crows feet showed unmistakably beneath her eyes and she smiled widely to cover th em up and aquinting a little, said, Only a half-peso Ato would have given it to you eventually. Yes, but you spoke for me, he said, his big body heaving before her. Thank you, though I dont need it as badly as the rest, for to look at me, you would knew I have no wife yet. She looked at him sharply, feeling the malice in his voice. Id do it for any one, she said and turned away, angry and also ashamed, as though he had found out suddenly that the ruffles on her dress rested on a flat chest. The following week, something happened to her: she lost her way home. Miss Mijares was quite sure she had boarded the right jeepneys but the driver, hoping to beat traffic, had detoured down a side alley, and then seeing he was low on gas, he took still another shortcut to a filling station. After that, he rode through alien country. The houses were low and dark, the people shadowy, and even the driver, who earlier had been an amiable, talkative fellow, now loomed like a sinister stranger over the wheel. Through it all, she sat tightly, feeling oddly that she had dreamed of this, that some night not very long ago, she had taken a ride in her sleep and lost her way. Again and again, in that dream, she had changed direction, losing her way each time, for something huge and bewildering stood blocking the old, familiar road home. But that evening, she was lost only for a while. The driver stopped at a corner that looked like a little known part of the boulevard she passed each day and she alighted and stood on a street island, the passing headlights playing on her, a tired, shaken woman, the ruffles on her skirt crumpled, the hemline of her skirt awry. The new hand was absent for a week. Miss Mijares waited on that Tuesday he first failed to report for some word from him sent to Ato and then to her. That was regulation. Briefly though they were held, the bureau jobs were not ones to take chances with. When a man was absent and he sent no word, it upset the system. In the absence of a definite notice, someone else who needed a job badly was kept away from it. I went to the province, maam, he said, on his return. You could have sent someone to tell us, she said. It was an emergency, maam, he said. My son died. How so? A slow bitter anger began to form inside her. But you said you were not married! No, maam, he said gesturing. Are you married? she asked loudly. No, maam. But you have you had a son! she said. I am not married to his mother, he said, grinning stupidly, and for the first time she noticed his two front teeth were set widely apart. A flush had climbed to his face, suffusing it, and two large throbbing veins crawled along his temples. She looked away, sick all at once. You should told us everything, she said and she put forth hands to restrain her anger but it slipped away she stood shaking despite herself. I did not think, he said. Your lives are our business here, she shouted. It rained that afternoon in one of the citys fierce, unexpected thunder-storms. Without warning, it seemed to shine outside Miss Mijares window a gray, unhappy look. It was past six when Miss Mijares, ventured outside the office. Night had come swiftly and from the dark sky the thick, black, rainy curtain continued to fall. She stood on the curb, telling herself she must not lose her way tonight. When she flagged a jeepney and got in, somebody jumped in after her. She looked up into the carpenters faintly smiling eyes. She nodded her head once in recognition and then turned away. The cold tight fear of the old dream was upon her. Before she had time to think, the driver had swerved his vehicle and swung into a side street. Perhaps it was a different alley this time. But it wound itself in the same tortuous manner as before, now by the banks of overflowing esteros, again behind faintly familiar buildings. She bent her tiny, distraught face, conjuring in her heart the lonely safety of the street island she had stood on for an hour that night of her confusion. Only this far, folks, the driver spoke, stopping his vehicle. Main streets a block straight ahead. But its raining, someone protested. Sorry. But if I got into a traffic, I wont come out of it in a year. Sorry. One by one the passengers got off, walking swiftly, disappearing in the night. Miss Mijares stepped down to a sidewalk in front of a boarded store. The wind had begun again and she could hear it whipping in the eaves above her head. Maam, the mans voice sounded at her shoulders, I am sorry if you thought I lied. She gestured, bestowing pardon. Up and down the empty, rain-beaten street she looked. It was as though all at once everyone else had died and they were alone in the world, in the dark. In her secret heart, Miss Mijares young dreams fluttered faintly to life, seeming monstrous in the rain, near this man seeming monstrous but sweet overwhelming. I must get away, she thought wildly, but he had moved and brushed against her, and where his touch had fallen, her flesh leaped, and she recalled how his hands had looked that first day, lain tenderly on the edge of her desk and about the wooden bird (that had looked like a moving, shining dove) and she turned to him with her ruffles wet and wilted, in the dark she turned to him. from: http://pinoylit. blogspot. com/2005/03/virgin-by-kerima-polotan-tuvera. html