Good Landscaping Slogans

BOX SPRING DAFFODILS



SOON SPRING





Perhaps this thought is too trivial. Much has been written about the feelings they arouse the seasons, and among them which has more rivers of ink has been the spring, perhaps because that is when the world wakes up and wishes him every a new beginning. Next to fall are the two principles of nature. The first renews life, the second prepares the rest to the further processing. Both are full of beauty, as two women who compete in beauty, but not the comparison would be more accurate if we think in one beautiful woman who, when autumn comes, it still retains the beauty of youth that goes out and preparing for a peaceful old age and full of wonderful memories.
Today I tried to join my way to this spring and brings flowers and little by little, the summer heat and although everything is already written on this station, I venture to express my feelings even being sure that many, when read, think that I have not said anything new. And sure they're right, I will not say anything that has not been said already, but as each of us has an individuality, our perceptions are as well, therefore, always be found among these letters, something new, who knows perhaps a word move a chord in our hearts never appreciated. That rope was quiet, no vibration and, suddenly, without knowing why, an expression, a trivial sentence, obliges it to release the most beautiful note that spreads in waves through the universe.

all know there are some people more sensitive to odors than others. It was explained very well this singularity in the German novel by Patrick Suskind, "Perfume", and although it was a story that personally by saving their literary merits, "did not like, clearly explains this peculiarity we have. But the smell of which I will refer are much nicer than those quoted in the book.
is spring, especially on a holiday, when most people take advantage of the early times of day to laze and exhaust the maximum hours of rest, I take advantage to open the window and let in the smell that hits crystals and fills the senses with unexplainable sensations.
As nice is the perception I consider it most appropriate to assist in the first meditation of the day. Sitting comfortably near the window or the balcony, I let the cool morning breeze caress my skin wrapped in a tender embrace exhilarating fragrance that fills my whole being. Stop and examine the time, I try to be aware of all the feelings that come to me. Smells like land, clean air, freshness, fresh mown grass, a sea, tenderness, wisdom, unique life.
The trill of a blackbird or a robin, accompanied by his music a sense of calm and peace. I inhale the scent of life renewed, a spring and let the emotions flow like water from a clean stream that runs between the path of a forest. I feel the breeze moves the leaves of the elms whispering a mysterious singing music like elves, imperceptible if not paying attention. The silence is remarkable, immobilized, and the nature charm and captivate your senses. So in this stillness, I do not know how long to enjoy the lightness of everything around me. There is only the perfume of spring. And while, occasionally, the sounds prosaic existence fervent break the silence, the sounds do not bother, only silenced for a moment the songs of birds and in that interval, I listen to the quiet devotion of the universe, that only break the noisy inhabitants of a magnificent cosmos and unknown.
Then slowly return to materialize full of harmony trills blackbird or a robin and others but I can not distinguish cadence filled the quiet of the beginning of the day.
Yes, I like the smell of spring, even in this Madrid overwhelmed with tasks, movement of heterogeneous people who do not have time to listen, to absorb the beauty of the silence of nature, so your breath smell spring. A few hours later starts
bustle of ordinary life. Heat arrives. The spell is broken. MAGDA.

If He Gives You His Dog Tags

HAPPY BECAUSE .... PEACE Tale


Myspace Tshirt Generator
Thank you for always!! VIVI .....

Poptropica Free Credits Cheats

There once was a king who offered a prize to the artist who could capture in a picture perfect peace. Many artists tried. The king looked at all the pictures, but there were only two he really liked and had to choose between them. The

One was a calm lake. The lake was a perfect mirror which reflected a peaceful towering mountains all around him. Overhead was a blue sky with fluffy white clouds. All who saw this picture thought that this perfect picture of peace.

The second picture had mountains. But these were rugged and bare. Above was an angry sky from which fell a mighty downpour with thunder and lightning. Down the mountain tumbled a foaming waterfall. All this is not revealed at all peaceful.

But when the king looked carefully, he saw behind the waterfall a tiny bush growing in a rock crevice. This shrub is found a nest. There, amid the violent roar of falling water, sat the mother bird on her nest ...

perfect peace "...?

What do you think was the winning picture?

The king chose the second.

Do you know why?

"Because," explained King, "Peace does not mean being in a place with no noise, trouble, or hard work without pain. Peace means that despite being in the midst of all these things remain calm within our hearts . This is the true meaning of peace. " WORLD SOURCE

PEQUES

Tabaco Katowicka Opole

BOX
DAFFODILS
We saw leaving the Institute, sitting on the floor. All around, a well-worn bags with what we thought were their belongings and is always tight in his hands, a box of metal, rectangular, very nice. I had to set me several times to see detail without appearing intrusive. It was not too large, was about 25 centimeters long by 15 wide. A border wavy, silver, decorating the outline and the rest of the box, looked on light blue background, like a sky, a yellow and white daffodils seemed finished blooming. I would have said that in his original point, was filled with chocolates or cookies and besides it was pretty, I was interested in that box by a desire not to drop the beggar of his hands, which made me wonder about its content.

- What will be inside ...? Money ...! - Eduardo said, my dinner companion at the Institute, one day I mentioned my curiosity - These old begging but the aunts are lined ... they have more rooms than a bullfighter - said contemptuously.

The old beggar, always occupied the same place next to the school fenced wall, waiting a few coins in the cardboard box that looked to his side. He had a dignified and inexplicable. It was something special that emanated from his person, the aura, the energy ... The hair thoroughly White, one could say that relatively hair, pale face surrounded by a very clear-eyed, not knowing if they were blue or green because they barely got out of those hands that held fine, like a treasure box of daffodils. After studying for several days, I concluded that this woman had been in his day, a beauty. And this detail encouraged my curiosity about the box of daffodils.
One evening, on leaving the Institute, when the cold was felt, it started raining. The fellow we separated each to its destination. Some went in the car with the father who had come to look, others went to the bus stop and I went to the nearest Metro station.
As I walked, I saw the beggar in front of me and instinctively slowed to observe. I watched as he moved with difficulty, very slowly, and going down the stairs to the Metro station, grabbed the railing to help. Some passengers hurriedly hid his vision and I suddenly heard the screams and commotion. I went and the floor beside the double doors of entry to the platform, was his body. Security Guard, called by the portable radio and heard his partner say: "I think he's dead. Gives the message "Your bags remained together
her hands and escaped the box of daffodils that I thought I was offering. While the Guard was trying to bring order to avoid the melee by the body, took the opportunity. I took the box and opened it. I was surprised. A wilted rose with red petals and dry leafless, was inside next to a sepia-toned old photographs which showed the image of a man in uniform old-probably the first world war-and long mustache guides . Almost invisible, below, on the right side of the picture, I could read: "To my beloved Ruth. With all my love "
do not know why I took it but did not seem like a theft. That memory should not die, but must be perpetuated over time. I still have things in my beloved. A loving memory of a stranger. MAGDA.

Thin Headband For Guys

I invite you to reflect on some quotes from Francesco Tonucci


"... the Teachers should take advantage of moments of freedom and play of the guys to watch, see aspects of his character and attitude in class usually are not revealed. (...) Not to use against them, but to know more. "


" The kids have to come to school with pockets full, not empty, and take their skills to work in the classroom. (...) The work begins by giving the floor to the children. First move the child only after the teacher. The teacher has to know what children know before they act, because if it comes before, sure it hurts. (...) If they were heard, children may bring to school their own thinking. Typically, a child who has a practical intelligence, deft hands and can take apart a motor, for the school is worthless. It obviously only if you are developing data. That classification makes no sense. This selective attitude, that there are few major languages \u200b\u200band others are worthless, leading children to fail. "


" The school uses the distrust and that produces a negative evaluation based on what the guy does not can do. Based on what she knows to do good, the school should motivate you to recover and win what is not a conquest. (...) The school transmissive means that a child not know and going to school to learn, while the teacher teaches those who do not know. That's a childish idea, thinking the child as an empty glass, while the teacher pours knowledge to fill the child gradually. (...) The child knows and is competent and going to school to develop their knowledge. "


" The school should be able to read the concrete reality that surrounds the child. The geography is its neighborhood, the history of his family. "


" The Birth of Western democracies and industrial development of the school require basic training, a mass literacy. Demand it, because if democracy means popular management power, every citizen can participate in it as far as the availability of instruments to learn, express themselves, discuss. "


" The school does not change, continues to be a complement, though the selection remains shifted to the higher levels, institutes, universities and work, raises the percentage of functional illiteracy, ie the number of those who never used cultural instruments proposed by the elementary school: reading and writing. "


" The problem is deeper and continues to fester under the various structural forms and methodological : the school of all has not become school for all ".

" Now everyone goes to school are far fewer who can find in your family the necessary bases-cultural models.


"A school that really wants to be a school and for everyone must be concerned to offer those bases around the world, those motivations those cultural models needed to build a body of knowledge, skills, skills ".


" Paradoxically, we could say that succeed in school who do not. The school, which should help to introduce equality among citizens, on the contrary feeding differences. "


" In the school has not changed anything because it has been left completely outside this process of transformation to the teachers. "


" Our school now lives in virtually " illegality ", the inability to enforce its own rules and with the fear that new ones appear even more advanced."


"Real reform of the school should be born of those who work in it, as demand for new levels professionals, for construction which all energies should be used now available.


"A project that looks to the future, towards the XXI century should consider three aspects: a) The role of the school and its relationship to external reality; b) The school method: teaching-learning relationship; c) The teacher: its function and formation. "


"The school assumes the role of an educational institution par excellence, extending its duration and multiple objects and actions. The schools are asking families to give more and to compensate the family and social deficiencies. The school becomes a place of socialization, recovery, therapy ... "


"The teacher is not knowledge but the mediator of knowledge ".


" The school enjoys the diversity. The different points of view are the indispensable motor of educational action: show contrasts or contradictions , requesting comparison progressive deepening later.

BEAUTIFUL VIDEO




"Students should participate in school management," says Tonucci

To improve education we should not enact new laws or reform programs, but give them more power and responsibility to students. It holds the prestigious teacher Italian Francesco Tonucci, which advised "best teachers" but, above all, put the students in the center of the scene and delegate tasks and duties that may impact even in school governance.

Invited by the Council for Catholic Education ( Consudec ), where he lectured on "The role of children in times of crisis," once again brought the country its renewed ideas, trying to link more directly what happens in school everyday.

argues well that "if children are actively involved in management and in making school decisions, as the stipulation of the rules that apply during breaks, the child will not feel a slave but a free and sovereign citizen, one of the objectives to be pursued in a democratic school. "

"The school can not destroy what the child knows," said Tonucci , speaking to THE NATION learning about ways more desirable in the classroom, including the Italian educator includes entertainment . "Reading books aloud to children is one of time better spent in school," says this educator and artist, 66, graduated in Pedagogy in Milan and whose books With eyes as a child, the city of children and when children say Basta! are required reading among those who retain a passion for teaching.

Source: THE NATION

List Of Top Companies To Work For In Dubai

Adios Maria Elena !!!...


Died "Manuelita mom." She wrinkled addition mourns along with the "El Brujo's Gulubú." The world today is upside down "happy" for his departure and the country of sneezing as well as "atchis" say "Thank You": Maria Elena Walsh forever!

Metallic Taste In Mouth After Wisdom Surgery

MEDAL



MEDAL

fresh morning and ended that winter that filled me with nostalgia. My watch marked a quarter to seven in five minutes to get to the train station and went his way until seven o'clock, not in a hurry and walked more slowly. The streets of the development of the people were lonely, from time to time only some car left the garage to march on the road to Madrid, about 50 miles distant. Wrapped in my coat, I looked the whitewashed houses jutting above the encircling walls, most of them covered or Arizona cypress hedges to protect the privacy of its inhabitants. I liked the mountain village where John and I had bought a small house when we decided to get married. It was quiet and pretty, very pretty, surrounded by the Andes mountain range whose peaks could be seen completely white in winter because of snow, offering a much desired peaceful moments after the daily bustle of a big capital.
Arriving at the station guard me in the waiting room and sat on the uncomfortable iron bench as he approached the hour of departure of the train that took me to Madrid. It was my daily trip to my work address. Juan came half an hour before me and picked up the car he used in his profession, we planned our lives and relatively happy marriage.
The time it took the train to reach the capital, was a relaxing time spent on giving free rein to my thoughts. That morning, did not know why I was sad, melancholy, memories of times past, had taken possession of me.
accommodated in the window seat, my mind began to dwell on the past and figure Arthur Crisp appeared insistent with his mischievous grin. We dated for two years, during two happy years ended sadly. His image appeared to me as if he were present, smiling, young, sweet, always positive, expected much from life, never thought anything negative to him, everything had a nice solution.
Instinctively my fingers stroked the gold medal hanging around my neck. Gave me when we formalized our relationship, we would get married next year, so we decided, but that never came. One day, he appeared downcast, sad eyes and told me that his company had gone bankrupt, remained without work and without compensation of any kind. Arturo had no family, lived alone and kept to his hard-won career after leaving a state school for young people without resources. But he was a fighter and an optimist, yes. However, the economic situation was very bad and unemployment increased daily while businesses closed their doors. The months went by without getting a job and was doomed to seek help from social charities.
At that same time, fate put John on my way. I presented some office mates and got along. It was a serious man, not a boy, almost ten years older than me, me I felt protected from the very beginning and love of Arthur began to decrease almost without being conscious.
Throughout my life I had often wondered if love so nice that vanished because of the negative economic materialism and that made me feel selfish because something inside me answered affirmatively. But at the same time, the justification for changing the character of Arthur, came to my aid. So compelling that joy, became, little by little, a sadness that I was harrowed, and I began to feel unhappy at his side. No longer laughing, he was forced to sell his car to survive and began despair. We could not go to the movies, or dinner, or to travel on Sunday near Madrid because he did not allow me to take charge of their spending until, one afternoon, after that John was invited to spend a weekend in his company, I decided to break our relationship. He said nothing, not angry, I asked for explanations, I just looked intently into his eyes and saw his own beautifully brown, a gulf of sad disappointment.
Since then he had seen him and had already spent a few long years. That spring will meet the fourth anniversary of my marriage to John. The warning beep to close the doors of the train I turned wing reality. We had already spent a few seasons and I saw the figure of a man who, at that time, had boarded the train. Something familiar from its appearance prompted me to notice him and my heart sank. No doubt, it was Arthur. Thinner, a bit scruffy and unshaven, unshaven. Very seriously, I felt nervous, shifty eyes, observed on either side from the platform of the car and suddenly I saw was addressing violence against passengers. In his hand, shone a knife and demanded of them, threatening him everything of value handed carry, phones, jewelry, watches was talking in a bag. To reach me, I offered the medal snatched from my hand, looked at me and I read face the astonishment of the meeting. He paused for a moment undecided, I saw him turn red and his eyes filled with horror and shame. He threw the medal on my lap and ran away into another car, the reviewer was fast approaching in the company of a couple of security guards with the gun in his hand.
The train came to a station but the doors remained closed until it was completely stopped. I looked out the window and saw him go down to the platform jump and run at the same time heard a shot and fell to the ground with a strange gesture. It struck me as someone friendly, I would have slapped too hard on the back. The
security guards and the conductor came running while the phone in his hand made a call. Before the train back to close their doors and continue to its destination, I saw one of the guards approached his fallen body on the pavement of the platform. Made a negative motion with her head and people swirling slowly to see what was happening, were brought before me. The train moved off and continued to travel while I stood, again, the medal around his neck. Stroked it with my fingers while a tear fell on the image of that adorned her virgin. MAGDA

Shikakai Amla To Darken Hair

Note for the reader:

With the switch to first person in the last two para-
results, try to give more closeness and intimacy at the end
history.
I hope the readers' understanding.







FACED LOVE HIM .-



The black moon night inspired mystery, silence. The heart, no light to illuminate the nooks and crannies where they hide feelings of love, crushing his chest with an inexplicable feeling of suffocation. I could not understand it senses subdued. Anyone unthinking affection overflowed any attempt to sanity. He loved her deeply and did not admit any other consideration. He was ready to get on and off, in spite of everything, but did not know how to act. The words were useless verbiage did not surrender his purpose. He said simply: "No! All over," and walked away without allowing a moment of reflection.
burned the letter in his pocket. From time to time put his hand to touch the paper, like a caress the beloved. She soon the program would be his white hands, between your hands beautiful. Read their letters, think of his words. And perhaps, would shed a tear to understand their error. I wanted to believe. He must have known he could not live without it, have her side, hearing their laughter, without smelling the perfume of her body. And stroked letter greed jealous lover. No, not allowed to walk away from his side. Without it you could not breathe, breathe. It was his life, his land, heaven and hell, your everything. He had delivered from the first moment he met her. He seized him, completely absorbed fused into a single being and now abandoned like an old toy. "No! All over," he said, turned around and left. With those words disappeared from his heart chest leaving a huge void, a blackness unable to illuminate with any logical reasoning, just pain.
left the road to the lights of solitary walk. The cold night invited the gathering and walked slowly under the streetlights illuminated the banks of the boulevard, the floor was studded with the yellow leaves of the trees that were stripping her green dress. Occasionally, the sound of a car, swiftly, with dazzling lights, he surpassed. In the corner, he spotted the yellow receptacle post. He drew the letter from his pocket and with trembling hand, inserted it into the mailbox. When back, tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt confused, somewhat humbled and repented but I could not retrieve the letter. She soon, read those painful words begging love.








ELLA .- The moon was rising the day we met. Their eyes met in a sidelong glance he kept forcing her to be the first to change the view. Her large, dark eyes, an attractive figure, moderately high, with some pride that he later discovered was an overcoming shyness, filled with admiration.
So began the words, the deal calls, chance encounters that were not and end the statement. I love you, "he said, and repeated:" I love you, Paula. That second statement was the one that upsets the balance of affection. He won his heart for high score. Do not know why. When analyzed, was aware that the mere pronunciation of his name added to the loving phrase, was what led to the assertion. Then she left wanting. He was young, he had found love, a love that's flattering, was considered the queen of the world could it all. There were tears in his eyes, if anything, only joy, life was beautiful, the sun shone even in the darkest corners, everything was jubilant ... And got carried away by feelings misleading until he reached the other.
never could explain why he changed his whole being. The other was not looking to worship only with care, studying ... but that attention let her feelings bare, as if ripped his clothes making her feel vulnerable. It was the opposite of him. Serious, discreet ... did not absorb their time, let him go slowly, waiting for the right moment that left to chance. And little by little, he won his love. A deep love never experienced before.
The day she confessed her feelings, she was willing and her body trembled as the petals of a freshly cut rose. And from that moment belonged to forever.





OTHER

.- The full moon lit up the sky and the earth with the light stolen from the sun. The night was day, the darkness does not exist. The shine was shining my lonely soul. Never felt that impression. I saw her sitting with her hands folded on her lap, blonde, delicate. It looked like a nineteenth-century lady rescued from a painting by Pierre Auguste Renoir, with his mane on the shoulders and the look in flight is not known what dreams. I loved from the first moment I saw her. Quiet, slightly sad. Smooth ... I did not know how to approach it, the fear of being rejected, curtailed my decision, however, knew that should tell if he would miss the opportunity.
told me I had a boyfriend but when introduced into the depths of his eyes, I discovered a buried sadness she kept coming to the surface of his thoughts. Not love him. I knew as I read in her eyes the feeling of confusion and a hint of pain when he saw my look on theirs. Something supernatural told us both that we were together for life, forever ...
That rainy afternoon, I approached from behind and grabbed her umbrella to shelter both the stream of water hitting on the extended fabric. I held her by the elbow, she looked at me and smiled. My soul was flooded with a satisfaction never known before. It was a wonderful feeling of fullness, to be me in full. As if having met her before, I was missing something, was only half, incomplete ... that was the right word ... before it was incomplete. Now, with her by my side we were one whole, her and me. Soul mates, mutual love. Total binding.
And I loved her.





SON .-

-waning moon, "she said, looking drawn piece of moon in the sky blue of the night.
At that moment I knew the decline of his love. The son was in bed, sleeping peacefully. Was an extension of myself for what was it? "He asked. Since its birth ... .. not before, since he had the knowledge that lived inside her, he loved with a love that defied description. A love that stole some of mine, the part that had always belonged to me and, now, and shared with that stem from our leafy tree, evergreen, flowering ... or so I thought I had. I looked at the crib
piece of meat that our sleeping soundly and I was filled with a tenderness that does not know if it was love or simple surrender to that being defenseless that needed our care, and when I went to seek the understanding, share his eyes, I found a love that knew no extinguished if either divided, yes, but tilting the balance pan newcomer to the child. And suffered. -------------------


I had been with me for nine months. I loved him before he was formed, when it was still a drop of blood, when his heart was only a starting point to beat. It was mine, my flesh, my being, my thoughts, my ideas ... Then, little by little, I realized that was also part of it. He also belonged to him when I had my arms, my whole beef was touched by that being perfect in its structure to which I had given life, and I felt a love so deep that hurt me in pulses, in the soul. At the time, knew the feeling of true love.
He watched me, the frustration in his eyes. I smiled, I loved him why did he fear? He had discovered that my love for the child was stronger and deeper than any other love. I grieved. I left the boy asleep in his crib, then I went to him. I hugged him, felt her strength of man, his passion. Understood. For me it was not the lover ... was the father, and my love had changed, he shared with that child to seize the largest piece of my heart, deeper the more eternal. He said .. "I love you, love you forever, but my love for you is subject to change, you understand. Know that you never forget but it is my own flesh, the life of my life and love beyond any emotion. You, you're part of it and so you still love in him, as you like, in that half yours "
I watched with tears in his eyes, stroked my cheek and left my side. - Magda.

Brazilian Wax In Madison ,wi

FACED LOVE "THE THEATRE THE WORLD HISTORY OF A BREAK


WORLD THEATRE

(Reflection)


I know that this title may seem like a copy of Grand Auto Sacramental "The Great Theatre of the world" no less magnificent writer Don Pedro Calderon de la Barca, but emulating the distinguished writer and, of course, saving the huge distances between him and me, (I hope readers will forgive me all this daring), is a phrase that has come to my mind at the time to peek this morning at the window and admire the scenery.
I'm very lucky because both from one end or another of the balcony of my home, my view is presented to a wide horizon and beautiful is the inspiration or muse of these writings of mine on the nature, so frequent, and today, the words that have come to mind when contemplating the landscape, have been these: "The theater of the world" And I'll explain why.
In the distant line where the sky meets the earth, saw a more or less perfect square of red light that gradually turn pink and I thought: "Are the lights on the stage" like you expect to begin the function and, impatient we do not lose detail, to see the lights going up in tone, we know that immediately, descorrerá the curtain and start the scene. So I thought the day.
Immediately I got the question: "If we who populate this world, in the famous work of Don Pedro Calderón, we are the actors who work to my humble opinion and ignoring the work of Calderon, can be the director and who are the spectators? "And I kept thinking, and imagining as he watched the beautiful dawn. Gradually, as the lights of the room and started the function. First slowly, until the stage was lit up completely. "Wake up the day. Everything is looking forward pending the start, succeed scenes, dialogue that ultimately lead us to the nub of the story where everyone plays their role. The director, always careful that the strings are properly developed and if an actor make a mistake, the scolding was swift: "be careful because the next time you run out of paper."
Well, we suspect he may be the director. This mysterious being we call God, energy, power, or light-even science, supernatural, superior or unknown, which is who or what we put on this earth. We need to know who are those that are part of the public and enjoy or criticize our actions, and there's certainly more intense. Who buys two tickets to see the work? "He asked.
After pondering for a while, I concluded that humans themselves can be both actors as viewers of course! In the world there are many plays, not just one. We join in groups to form stories, plays in which we participate as a few others, we watch and comment our actions. And that sometimes, we are part of the public, while other works are actors, and so we are learning and interacting with each other. Then I thought: What the world is well done! Whoever you have created, had to get to know the beauty, wisdom, order and love because these things are always present in the daily drama that is life, the rest is part of the interpretation of each actor, characteristics of declamatory, the plot of the play that touches on luck, the errors committed in their actions and should be rectified ... the better or worse interpretation of other actors who followed him, the stage, more or less comfortable or uncomfortable in which you have to act ... And so, in this complicity of actor / audience, performed better or worse, develop the work of life.
And most importantly we have Who is the author of works? In the book of our famous writer, is God but, in my view, I think everyone should have the power to put the author, the name that you like. (For the record they want changed is not the Don Pedro Calderón flat God save me from such daring!). Yes, you can call it God, destiny, fate, freedom, dependence ..., etc. There are plenty of names to choose from and each has their own taste.
I put the name of "LIFE" and, while waiting for the start of my daily actions, I will continue enjoying the scenery from my window every morning. Then go into the scene.
will conclude this reflection with verses of Don Pedro Calderon de la Barca in his masterpiece "THE GREAT THEATRE OF THE WORLD" for all remember:

For this, common flock
I will, from the poor to the King, to amend the

to wander and teach those who know not,
with the pointer, to my law;
it all
tell you what you have to do