"ruthi gavin sat hidden among the bushes in the depth of night and observed the house of gordon scott. she wore dark leather gloves. once in a while she pushed slowly one of the bush's branches to the side only to then let it slowly move back to its previous position. one after another all lights disappeared in douglas gordon's house. gordon seemed to have gone to bed. as finally the day was about to break, ruthi gavin pushed the branch to the side for a last time, let it glide back one last time and tiredly crept home. she was so fed up with her job! it was so excruciatingly boring being a minor character in a rejected script of a fifth-classed crime novel in an old and dusty drawer."
... as before, the taz's truth's weather, monday 23 may 2011, while waiting in the lovely city that i visit so frequently.
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