Bongo's sobs are hurled outlike paintballs from a skirmish gununtil the force diminishesinto a trickle of sobsthat wind up the exorcism.

One more year and I will be closer to wherever I'm going.

They scribble on notepads,the sound of their pensscratching the judgemental air.

It's not about blood,"says Lucius. "It's about who you shareyour life with.Where you feelyou really belong.

Strange, isn't it?" he asks."Where life takes you and how much can change.

i miss my brother likethe sea would miss saltif that were taken away.

If I let him touch me,it'd be like openinga one-waytelepathic tunnel.

She's never sure,never knows,never goes.

I walk the city, through its crush of people and its smells:body odour, rotting food, vomit and urine. A cocktail of oppression and freedom.

There're three reasonspeople get away from here:gone good, gone bad orgone dead.