I am in an island sent over to answer questions and answers and I must say these words in the worst possible taste. When I have finished you can ask questions and then I will endeavour to reply. The end and the short of it is I am at your disposal. What I think does not really matter my material is there and I must see that it filters through and makes a remark and sense as much as possible.
I am entering a broad spectrum of a society called the Islanders because like any other islanders they have low morals. I am sure that they are sub Muslims and not the main stream their tastes run in families into some incest. It is a thing that they have grown accustomed to because they have been cooped indoors too long and the nearest thing is their own. Other meat does not taste as nice.
So, have to ask myself this question what do man do towards keeping their morality going when no one sees them doing the bad deeds? Can I say they get along with the carnage and when not noted down they seek higher and higher rewards for bad behaviour?
I am spoiling you all by giving you all the plot but do not worry the narrative is so strange that it might confuse you all the time. I am just summarising the plot in order to make the editor know where and who everything is.
As most of the editors do think that I am a dull woman it does not make a bit of difference to them what I write about as they do not seem to read what I say and even when they do, they think it is rubbish.
My most prime possession is a bin which I placed outside and the weekly collection is a boom inside me they get out in the world why cannot my writing?
My man is a man who got away but when we were together, he had this and that to say about life in general.
“Life is what you make it,” he used to say, “When we make something likeable everyone is agreeably surprised and gives us praise and understanding love and kindness.”
He had gone to the Southern frock and did not see me the rubble and the robbed. I had been the one who had felt the most hurt he hurt too but he got on with life.” You see when we have the right manners table manners can be invited to palaces and the harem and nobody would be any the wiser where we came from. Because life is what one makes it.”
In the old days people did not travel because they thought they would be murdered and now nothing much has changed although now it is reported and we all know it won’t happen ever again.
“Miss what does it all mean having this story?”
“I will spare you the overall imprint it is just details at present with the present in the end.”
“What is the present?” A young person said it is a young man without much of a dress code maybe he is still a student but I did answer his questions.
“You will see trust me.” I said in some demure manner it is the right of being authoress that people treat one like their own mother. Mum is the word.