www.public4you.fora.pl
Forum gazetki blogowej The Public.
FAQ
Szukaj
Użytkownicy
Grupy
Galerie
Rejestracja
Profil
Zaloguj
Forum www.public4you.fora.pl Strona Główna
->
Ideas
Napisz odpowiedź
Użytkownik
Temat
Treść wiadomości
Emotikony
Więcej Ikon
Kolor:
Domyślny
Ciemnoczerwony
Czerwony
Pomarańćzowy
Brązowy
Żółty
Zielony
Oliwkowy
Błękitny
Niebieski
Ciemnoniebieski
Purpurowy
Fioletowy
Biały
Czarny
Rozmiar:
Minimalny
Mały
Normalny
Duży
Ogromny
Zamknij Tagi
Opcje
HTML:
TAK
BBCode
:
TAK
Uśmieszki:
TAK
Wyłącz HTML w tym poście
Wyłącz BBCode w tym poście
Wyłącz Uśmieszki w tym poście
Kod potwierdzający: *
Wszystkie czasy w strefie EET (Europa)
Skocz do:
Wybierz forum
O FORUM
----------------
Statute
Notices
Problem
FORUMOWICZE
----------------
I'm new!
More about us
BLOGGOWANIE
----------------
Our blogs
Favorites
News and gossips
Your notice
The best blogs!
Your opinion
The Web
Quickly!
Competitions
News
Questions
GAZETA THE PUBLIC
----------------
Questions to redactors
Ideas
Actions The Public
News- The Public
Articles- your idea
Questionnaire
NASZE ŻYCIE
----------------
My problem- girls
My problem- boys
Life- problems
My talents
All about me
WRZUĆ NA LUZ
----------------
Graphic
Play with us!
Offtopic
Old propositions
Reading and watching
Humor
ShoutBox
----------------
ShoutBox
Przegląd tematu
Autor
Wiadomość
john4525
Wysłany: Sob 12:54, 19 Lut 2011
Temat postu: On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Published bbaaabdo
imand no
sooner were these words out of my mouth than Mrs. Dedmon
was on the phone making arrangements for me in her precise
and elegant French.
There was nothing to hold me in Paris anymoreand so I
took the train the following afternoon. This was the end of the
line for memy southward trek to oblivion. Whatever hope I
285 the locked room
might have had (the faint possibility that Fanshawe had re-
turned to Francethe illogical thought that he had found refuge
in the same place twice) evaporated by the time I got there. The
house was empty; there was no sign of anyone. On the second
dayexamining the rooms on the upper ?oorI came across a
short poem Fanshawe had written on the wall―but I knew that
poem alreadyand under it there was a date: August 251972.
He had never come back. I felt foolish now even for thinking it.
For want of anything better to doI spent several days talking
to people in the area: the nearby farmersthe villagersthe peo-
ple of surrounding towns. I introduced myself by showing them
a photograph of Fanshawepretending to be his brotherbut
feeling more like a down-and-out private eyea buffoon clutch-
ing at straws. Some people remembered himothers didn’tstill
others weren’t sure. It made no d
christian louboutin sale shoes
fora.pl
- załóż własne forum dyskusyjne za darmo
Powered by
phpBB
© 2001, 2005 phpBB Group
deoxGreen v1.2 // Theme created by
Sopel stylerbb.net
&
programosy.pl
Regulamin