[Editors] Oh, fellow editors and writers, take a break for this one...

[Debbie Levey]

>I looked up and saw my father shaking my mother, her eyes brimming 
>with tears, with humiliation. I never loved anyone as much as I 
>loved her at that moment. I looked at my father, his back to me, and 
>I felt the creation of hate in one of the soul's dark porches, felt 
>it scream out its birth in a black forbidden ecstasy.
>
>Who knew the soul had PORCHES?  And not just one, but SEVERAL!
>
>A friend of mine says that his soul actually has a very nice gazebo, 
>thank you very much.
>

Maybe he originally meant to say pouches, which would at least 
contribute to the image of something tightly constricted and dark, 
but someone advised him that it sounded too much like convoluted 
intestinal problems.

Debbie