Tears welled up in her eye and then rivulets flowed down her face.That scared me. When she moaned and choked, "Oh, my God! "Oh my God!" I expected the...worst. I hugged her tightly, figuring she couldn't see anything at all now.She started to gasp and sob even louder. "Oh, no. Oh, NO!"Her sobs and tears just kept increasing.I lifted her head to my shoulder and hugged her to me."Oh, Guy," she said through her sobs, "I can't believe it. I just can't believe it."I can see!"I can see!!!"I can see. She radiated a magnetic energy that pulled things to her as she needed them—people, jobs, ideas…She’d tell me she needed a new job and the next day the perfect job would fall right into her lap. She’d express an interest in seeing an old friend and he or she would turn up as if by accident a few days later walking through the mall. She had always said she felt as though she had pulled me to her at the bookstore that night, too. ‘What exactly do you need from me? I mean, how does this ‘ritual’. Mom instructed and guided me with her experience and maternal instinct, softly whispering along the lines of: "Deep and hard, yes, just like that. Long thrusts, all the way. You can go faster, but take it easy, don't rush it; we have all the time in the world. Just follow the rhythm of my hips, pumpkin. Yes, yes".The way mom's hips moved taught me all about the magic that was love, and I learned easily and well, following their motions."Hmm-Yes. Like that. Good," mom commented, as natural. A capital ‘T’ with cross strokes on the vertical. This too was part of the art of punishment. Even the eight lucky strokes and the character written in pain had significance. Blood splashed on the breasts of the artist who was performing to the edification of all but her victim, Garry. It trickled from the points of her nipples and onto the sand. Then there was more liquid on the sand as sweat, blood and finally sperm flowed on to the sand between Garry’s thighs. This final convulsion as the.