Divided We Fall Essay -- essays research papers

"Divided We Fall," a Czech movie about hard decisions and loyalty, not to one's country, but to yourself, is protrayed very well by director Jan Hrebejk. This movie, considered a black comedy, is more than just a true story being told; it shows how hard it was for one family to conseal a Jewish person in their home. Csonger Kassai's character, David, escaped prison in Poland and returned to Czechoslovakia where he thought that someone could help him. He is taken in by his former employee (Bolek Polivka, who plays Josef), who is reluctant at first, but spends the next two years lying in order to save David, himself, and his wife, Marie (Anna Siskova). Throughout the film, there are many close calls. The worst one is that Marie told Horst (a worker for the Nazis, who always comes over uninvited) that she is pregnant (in order to save David), although everyone knows the couple want children, but have never had any. Although you think that the couple have the hardest part of keeping David a secret, it's hard for David, especially at the end where he has to show his face in order to save the people who have consealed him. The setting of the house where Josef and Marie lived was a very good example of what most non-Jewish people would live in. It was small, but cosy just enough for two people. It also included a pantry which was turned into a shelter for David. Not many shots were taken out of the house and that ones that were taken of the street told the audience a lot, especially during the resistance. That scene showed people blowing up houses where collaborators lived, breaking glass windows, and running around the street chaotic. The cinematic techniques added much emotion to the story created on screen. Everytime there was a very important section or Nazis knocking on Josef's door, the cameras seemed to be slowing down just a little bit, as if to tell the audience "Okay, now it's the time to pay attention." Throughout the film, Hrebejk knew where to put the cameras in order to get the best take of a scene, which enhanced the view of watching the movie and added suspence to it. The music suited the movie very nicely. By the type of music playing, you could determine what sort of scene was coming up, either fast and light... ... it was his home, in order to save Josef and Marie from the Nazis searching their house. In that part, he did what was right. The perpetrators in the film would have been the Nazis who persecuted any family who had a Jew hiding with them. The victim was, of course, David. The collaborator was mainly Horst, but at time, Josef, when he really neede to be. The recuers were Josef and Marie, and at some times, Horst too. Some could say that, in order to save Josef, Marie and Horst, David was the rescuer. Simacek (played by Jiri Pecha0 would be also considered a rescuer since he never told the truth about Horst not being a real doctor. There seemed to be no bystanders in this film. The name of the film, "Divided We Fall," is only part of the phrase that was used througout the whole film. "United we stand, divided we fall' was the quote used mostly by Horst when he wanted to uplift Josef's feelings. It seemed easy to stand united but when trouble occurs, divided is what most people will be. The film showed, especially at the end, that people could be united even through tough times and even though they feel like going against their conscience.

Explanations for Inequality Essay

There are many sociological explanations for female inequality in society. Inequality is where something/ someone is seen as not equal compared to something else. For example men have more opportunities than women in life, suggesting females suffer huge inequality in many factors of life. Firstly, Anne Oakley speaks about how women suffer inequalities in the work place. Oakley notes that after the industrial revolution in Britain acts were passed to limit women working; in 1851 one in four married women worked whereas in 1911 one in ten worked. During the Victorian era the ideology that a woman’s place was in the home became truly established and industrialisation led to the separation of men from the daily routine of domestic life. Now it is claimed that women suffer from four main inequalities in the workplace. Firstly, there is the much debated pay gap in which, even though legislation to stop unequal pay was introduced in the 1970’s, the although narrowing pay gap is still visible between men and women. Secondly half of all females in employment are in part time employment; this form of employment is often less secure with fewer benefits. Thirdly, women suffer from vertical segregation; this is sometimes referred to as â€Å"the glass ceiling effect†. Women are seemingly unable to achieve the higher ranking positions and are stopped from achieving managerial positions by an invisible barrier. Lastly, women are said to suffer from horizontal segregation which is the idea of gendered jobs. Liberal feminist Oakley blames the dominant housewife mother role, suggesting that a wifes role is primarily domestic, thus inequality is inevitable. There are criticisms for this study however, suggesting that it see’s inequality as simply just a matter of time. As well as biological factors, and time Victoria Beechey, from a marxist perspective has deleveloped a study which see’s women as a reserve army of labour. She uses this in order to explain the position of women in the labour market. Marx argued that capitalism required a reserve army of labour, that is a spare pool of potential recruits to the labour force. Beechey identifies a number of ways in which women in modern Britain are particularly suited to form part of this reserve army. She suggests that women’s jobs are least likely to be covered by redundancy legislation, so it’s cheaper to make them redundant rather than men, suggesting huge inequality as it shows women are superior to men. Furthermore she suggests that unemployed married women may not be elegible to receive state benefits if their husbands are working, and for this reason they might not appear in unemployment statistics. Beechey says that ‘women’ who are made redundant are able to disappear virtually without a trace back into the family. She also suggests that women are more likely to accept part time work due to their domestic role, women tend to be happy in accepting less wages than their husbands as they can rely on their man. This makes you realise that still in society, women who don’t work, even though they want to is still frowned upon, and it would be easier for men to get jobs than women, showing inequality between women and men. Bruegel challenges this theory, she questions the assumption that the interests of capital must be served if women are to be used as a reserve army of labour. She points out that women can also benefit capitalism by producing domestic labour in the home, as this reduces the amount that needs to be paid to male workers. Linda Mcdowell like Beechey also talks about part time work, and why women are more likely to accept it. She applies post-Fordist theory to female employment. Post-Fordism suggests that there has been a move away from mass production to more flexible production of specialist products. Businesses keep a core of highly skilled workers, but most other workers are temporary, or part time, or work is contracted out to other firms. Women tend to be concentrated in the more flexible jobs, particularly part time work. This suggests that even today it is still hard to for women to have a good career like men, as due to other ‘priorities’ part time work may be the only suitable explanation. Lovering found evidence to support this theory suggesting that post Fordism trends affect only some women. Furthermore, post-Feminists argue that the feminism of the 1970s and 80s is out dated because it sees all women as sharing the same interests and ignores the diverse interests of different groups of women. Natasha Walter believes that there is still much that feminists need to change. She believes that the post-feminist emphasis on political correctness and language neglects the continuing problems of inequality which affect all women. Women still tend to suffer from problems such a low pay, lack of childcare, the dual burden of paid employment and domestic labour, poverty and domestic sexual violence. Following up on this Germaine Greer suggests that women cannot be themselves as they still have to act in the ways men want them to be. This suggests that women suffer in the hands of men, due to them being more powerful etc. Women thus are brainwashed into being how men want them to be, for example, clothing and make up. Radical feminists also believe that men’s power and control over men is the main reason for inequality. They believe that patriarchy is the most important concept when explaining gender inequalities. They tend to focus on the power relationships that are experienced in private, in particular the significance of sexuality and the use of violence. Kate Millet believes that oppressive and unequal relationships between men and women originate not in wider society, but in the intimacy of personal relationships, in sexual partnerships and in families and households or various kinds. She believes personal relationships are also political in that they are based on different and unequal amounts of power which are determined by sex and which are reinforced in every aspect of wider society. Culture, government, tradition, religion, law, education and the media all reflect patriarchal leadership and power. Critics of this theory suggest that this theory is ultimately biologically deterministic, since the biological facts of reproduction are at the heart of the position. Not all sociologists believe that inequality is still a major factor in society. Catherine Hakim (economist) suggests a ‘Rational choice theory’. She is critical of all feminist positions. She argues that feminist theories are both inaccurate and misleading, and that women are not victims of unfair employment practices. She identifies five myths; women’s employment had not in fact been rising, women were less committed to work than men, that their childcare responsibilities were not the main reason for them working part time, that part time jobs were not necessarily worse and finally that women were less likely to be in stable employment. This goes against all feminist explanations and suggests that inequality is not as we see it, and a lot has changed. However, Crompton argues that Hakim underplays the structures within which women make choices. In particular she cites the development of the male bread winner. Other sociologist like Hakim who neglect mainstream feminist values are the black feminists. They are critical of mainstream feminism suggesting that they neglect the particular problems that black women face. Bourne argues that white feminists are luke-warm about tackling racism because they enjoy social, economic and political privileges which make them part of the system which oppresses black women. Further more Yuval-Davis develops this theme claiming that ‘non-black’ minority ethnics such as Iranian, Cypriot, and Chinese women not only face racism, they also face cultural patriarchy which is particular to their communities. This is suggesting women are not really all in the same position and it affects people differently. White feminists tend to reject black feminists and ignore them from most of the studies and theories.

Importance of Maintaining the Strength and Power of Words...

thus â€Å"peculiar people†, Titus 2:14. According to a deeper root translation a more accurate meaning for â€Å"peculiar people† should be considered as a people wherein God had a superlative, propriety interest above and beyond the common interest of all other nations of the world. Therefore, the most accurate translation should rather be â€Å"His treasured people.† Peripoiesis, pronounced per-ee-poy’-ay-sis; means â€Å"purchased, or possession. A people for the Lord’s own possession; a people who are His very own†. I Peter 2:9,10 declared, â€Å"But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should show forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvelous light:† â€Å"Which in†¦show more content†¦This reserved place in you was necessary, for it was by this secret place in you that God tilled and cultivated the ground of your mind to plant His seed (Word) into. The Lord God did this to grow and yield Godly fruitfulness in the process of His time. Due to God’s wisdom, divine intervention and mercy, you were allowed the opportunity to be saved today; hence, being made peculiar unto God. Let us say, for example, that you are in a foreign country, walking somewhere, and you find a stone. You pick up this stone and say, â€Å"O h, a peculiar stone; I have not seen a stone like this before.† The fact that you are not familiar with that type of stone indicates that you do not realize that the stone may be one of the rarest stones in the entire world! Sometimes, because we do not recognize the value of something, we feel that it is a common thing; therefore, you give up possession of the valuable thing that is very peculiar, and most likely you will never be in possession of that thing again. This example applies to God, and people as well. If one does not recognize the value in God and others, then they will give up serving God and/or never seek to even know Him. This lack of desire to recognize God can temporarily cause people to feel as though they have lost nothing, only to learn that theyShow MoreRelatedEssay on The Place of Scripture in Christian Faith1126 Words   |  5 Pageswe can learn from spiritually and the Bible is used as a source of knowledge on Christian history (Bingham 1 52, 153). In this theological movement being a Christian is considered â€Å"nothing but feeling and experience† (Lane 238). Following is the Evangelical theology which evolved from the Pietism and Revivalist movement (Olson 33). Charles Finney, a leader in Evangelism, emphasized the need and ability to evangelize the world while also maintaining the power of free will† thereby influencing all butRead MoreThe Place of Scripture in Evangelical, Liberal, and Neo-Orthodox Thought1563 Words   |  7 PagesProfessor Scharfe Bible ____ 16 November 13 The Place of Scripture in Evangelical, Liberal, and Neo-Orthodox Thought As part of the Christian faith during 18th century revivals, three practices evolved forming their own interpretation on the place and authority of Scripture in Christian faith. The first of these were the Liberals who viewed themselves as the saviors of a defunct out of date Christianity, they wanted to connect with people and bring them into the faith, not scare them with aRead MoreThe Church Into The Future Essay1948 Words   |  8 Pageson the appropriate reference list of the Unit Outline (especially the starred ones) [LO1 ] 1200 words; discusses the strengths and limitations of these approaches [LO1] 400 words; reflects on how at least one approach could contribute to the transformation of the life of the church, with particular reference to your pastoral (parish/diocese/†¦), professional (school†¦), or personal context [LO3] 400 words. 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The Count of Toulouse was viewed as one of the most deviant heretics of the crusades. He was a man who preferred diplomacy and showed this by being truthful and compliant with the papacy, while maintaining other relations in order to protect the Cathars. He had received absolutionRead MoreBiblical Vs. Classical Phenomenon2078 Words   |  9 Pagesgiven humankind a sense of emergence in the old times of script and literature. The Epic of Gilgamesh was one of the many classical publications that were printed, including the epistles of the Old Testament and Gospels of the New Testament in the Bible. Both sets of arts spoke about famous stories that were very known to readers. Other classical texts, such as The Odyssey, similarly to The Epic of Gilgamesh, show readers the idea of connecting with multiple gods in one world. Biblical and classicalRead MoreAre You A Christ Led Leader?2728 Words   |  11 Pagesoverloaded life is by reading books such as Spiritual Leadership by Henry a nd Richard Blackaby. In addition, leaders would profit from studying Spiritual Leadership by J. Oswald Sanders, Experiencing God also by Henry and Richard Blackaby, The Bible and Bible Commentaries. Through the diligent study of these books, the leaders of today would learn principles of excellence. Understanding the leader s role, how God matures leaders, how God works in leaders lives, where leaders get their vision, howRead MoreBiblical Models of Servant Leadership13223 Words   |  53 Pageswhom God called to servant leadership in the Bible. These include a serving attitude where the leader sees his[1] primary responsibility to those whom he leads as to serve and develop them to fulfill their God-given mandate. The leader serves by putting on a redeeming attitude, like Moses and Joshua. 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The people of different civilizations have different views on the relations between God and man, the individual and the group, the citizen and the state, parents and children, husband and wife, as well as differing views of the relative importance of rights and responsibilities, liberty and authority, equality and hierarchy. Such issues as (God, loyalty, family, community, state, allegiance, etc.) have been part of every culture for thousands of years. To better understand any culture, one

Tasmanian Devil Facts

The Tasmanian devil (Sarcophilus harrisii)Â  is the worlds largest carnivorous marsupial. The animals common name comes from its ferocious feeding behavior. Its scientific name means Harris flesh-lover in honor of naturalist George Harris, who first described the devil in 1807. Fast Facts: Tasmanian Devil Scientific Name: Sarcophilus harrisiiCommon Name: Tasmanian devilBasic Animal Group: MammalSize: 22-26 inch body; 10 inch tailWeight: 13-18 poundsLife Span: 5 yearsDiet: CarnivoreHabitat: Tasmania, AustraliaPopulation: 10,000Conservation Status: Endangered Description The Tasmanian devil resembles a dog-sized rat. It has a large head for its body, which allows it to exert the strongest bite for its size of any carnivorous mammal (strong enough to bite through steel wire). It stores fat in its non-prehensile tail, so a thick tail is a good indicator of the marsupials health. Most devils have black fur with white patches, although 16% are completely black. Devils have excellent senses of hearing and smell, plus they use long whiskers to navigate in the dark. The animals eyes can see moving objects, but probably dont focus clearly. CÃ ©cile Boucher / Getty Images Mature males are larger than females. A males head and body averages 25.7 inches long, with a 10-inch tail and a weight around 18 pounds. Females average 22 inches in length, plus a 9-inch tail, and a weight of 13 pounds. Devils can hold food and other objects using four long forward-facing toes and one side-facing toe on each forefoot. There are four toes with non-retractable claws on each hindfoot. Both male and female Tasmanian devils have a scent gland at the base of the tail used to mark the ground. Habitat and Distribution About 3,000 years ago, the Tasmanian devil disappeared from mainland Australia. Many researchers believe dingoes and human expansion may have eradicated the animal. Today, devils only live on the island of Tasmania, Australia. While the animals occupy all habitats, they prefer dry forests. Diet and Behavior The Tasmanian devil rests in a den or the bush during the day and hunts at night. While devils do not form packs, they are not entirely solitary and will share a range. Tasmanian devils can hunt any animal up to the size of a kangaroo, but they usually eat carrion or take smaller prey, such as wombats or frogs. They also eat vegetation and fruit. Reproduction and Offspring Devils reach sexual maturity and start to breed at two years of age. Mating typically occurs in March. While Tasmanian devils are not territorial in general, females claim and defend dens. Males fight for the right to mate a female and the winner ferociously guards his mate to drive away competition. After a 21-day gestation, a female gives birth to 20-30 young, which are called joeys, pups, or imps. At birth, each joey only weighs from 0.0063 to 0.0085 ounces (size of a grain of rice). The blind, hairless young use their claws to move from the females vagina to her pouch. However, she only has four nipples. Once a joey makes contact with a nipple, it expands and holds the joey inside the pouch. The joey remains attached for 100 days. It leaves the pouch 105 days after birth, looking like a tiny (7.1 ounce) copy of its parents. The young remain within their mothers den for another three months. Tasmanian devils can live up to 7 years under ideal conditions, but their average life expectancy is closer to 5 years. Young Tasmanian devils are small versions of their parents. aaron007 / Getty Images Conservation Status In 2008, the IUCN classified the Tasmanian devils conservation status as endangered. The Tasmanian government has instituted protection programs for the animal, but its population continues to decline. The total population is estimated to be around 10,000 devils. Threats The principal threat to Tasmanian devil survival is devil facial tumor disease (DFTD), which is a contagious cancer devils transmit via bites. DFTD results in tumors that ultimately interfere with an animals ability to eat, leading to death by starvation. Devils also die from cancer that may be related to high levels of flame retardant chemicals in the environment. Road mortality is another significant cause of devil death. Tasmanian devils scavenge roadkill at night and are difficult for motorists to see because of their dark coloring. Tasmanian Devils and Humans At one time, Tasmanian devils were hunted for food. While it is true devils will dig up and eat human and animal corpses, there is no evidence they attack people. While Tasmanian devils can be tamed, their strong odor makes them unsuitable as pets. Tasmanian devils look and sound fierce, but they pose no direct threat to humans. CraigRJD / Getty Images Sources Brown, Oliver. Tasmanian devil (Sarcophilus harrisii) extinction on the Australian mainland in the mid-Holocene: multicausality and ENSO intensification. Alcheringa: An Australasian Journal of Palaeontology. 31: 49–57, 2006. doi:10.1080/03115510609506855Groves, C.P. Order Dasyuromorphia. In Wilson, D.E.; Reeder, D.M. Mammal Species of the World: A Taxonomic and Geographic Reference (3rd ed.). Johns Hopkins University Press. p. 28, 2005. ISBN 978-0-8018-8221-0.Hawkins, C.E.; McCallum, H.; Mooney, N.; Jones, M.; Holdsworth, M. Sarcophilus harrisii. IUCN Red List of Threatened Species. IUCN. 2008: e.T40540A10331066. doi:10.2305/IUCN.UK.2008.RLTS.T40540A10331066.enOwen, D. and David Pemberton. Tasmanian Devil: A unique and threatened animal. Crows Nest, New South Wales: Allen Unwin, 2005. ISBN 978-1-74114-368-3.Siddle, Hannah V.; Kreiss, Alexandre; Eldridge, Mark D. B.; Noonan, Erin; Clarke, Candice J.; Pyecroft, Stephen; Woods, Gregory M.; Belov, Katherine. Transmission of a fat al clonal tumor by biting occurs due to depleted MHC diversity in a threatened carnivorous marsupial. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. 104 (41): 16221–16226, 2007. doi:10.1073/pnas.0704580104

The Madonn An Ultimate Symbol Of Power - 1025 Words

The Madonna: An Ultimate Symbol of Power In Rogier van der Weyden’s the Madonna, Mary is portrayed as a powerful but matronly figure. Mary was hand picked by God to carry the savior, Jesus. By doing this, God shows his trust in Mary’s power to overcome the worldly views of conception before marriage. Not only was Mary powerful enough to give birth to Jesus, she was brave enough to take on the daunting task. Mary set an example of the power and internal strength women possess, and Rogier van der Wyden captured that perfectly in his painting the Madonna. In the Madonna, Mary is standing tall and proud while breastfeeding the baby Jesus. Her face shows the glow of a proud mother and confident woman. Mary not only shows power by bringing life into this world, but also by continuing to feed and nurture Jesus. A woman has the gift to bring new life into the world, and to keep that being healthy by feeding them from her own body. This work of art perfectly exemplifies all of the different aspects of what a woman contributes to the human life. Rogier van der Weyden used key details to show the importance of the two figures in this painting. He covered Mary with in a long royal colored sheet that those of great prominence would wear. On top of the royal color clothing, Mary has a crown on her head. He made her long tamed curls a rich and vibrant color that gives the painting life and excitement. As for the baby Jesus, Rogier painted him wrapped in a white cloth as a symbol of his

Sunshine Chapter 5 Free Essays

â€Å"Blood spoor. Your feet will be bleeding again before we are halfway across the open area.† Was there the faintest tremor in his oddly echo-y voice when he said that? â€Å"Mine will not. We will write a custom essay sample on Sunshine Chapter 5 or any similar topic only for you Order Now And Bo’s folk will not be at all happy about our escape, tonight, when they discover it. They will find the trail at once if they have blood spoor to follow.† I laid on a pause of my own. â€Å"Are you telling me that if I had decided to leave you behind, I wouldn’t have made it anyway?† â€Å"I do not know. There might conceivably have been some reason you were able to escape – a faulty lock on the shackle, for example. Bo would have someone’s†¦someone would pay severely for this, but it might end there. That we are both gone will mean that something truly extraordinary has happened. And it almost certainly has something to do with you – as it does, does it not? – and that therefore something important about you was overlooked. And Bo will like that even less than he would have liked the straightforward escape of an ordinary human prisoner. He will order his folk to follow. We must not make it easy for them.† This was the longest speech I had heard from him. It edged out his description of the supersucker he would have become on the blood of Onyx Blaise’s daughter. â€Å"For a ma – a creature who is driven mad by daylight, you are making very good sense.† â€Å"Having an accomplice is†¦reviving. Any hope after no hope. Even in these somewhat daunting circumstances.† Daunting. I liked that too. That was as good as â€Å"clean of live things.† He moved toward me and held out his arms, slowly, as if trying not to scare me. There was a sudden, ghastly rush of adrenaline – my body was having some trouble keeping up with my mind’s mercurial decisions – and I twitched myself sideways like I was moving a puppet. I put one arm round his neck – carefully, so I didn’t stretch the dubiously clotted scab on my breast – and held the water bottle in my other hand. He bent and picked me up more easily than I pick up a tray of cinnamon rolls. It was not going to be a comfortable ride. It was rather like sitting on the stripped frame of a chair that has had all the chair bits taken away – there are just a few nasty pieces of iron railing left, and they start digging railing-shaped holes into you at once. Also, if this was a chair, it was made for some other species to sit in. Vampires do breathe, by the way, but their chests don’t move like humans’. Have you ever lain in the arms of your sweetheart and tried to match your breathing to his, or hers? You do it automatically. Your brain only gets involved if your body is having trouble. Fortunately there was nothing about this situation that was like being in the arms of a sweetheart except that I was leaning against someone’s naked chest. I could no more have breathed with him than I could have ignited gasoline and shot exhaust out my butt because I was sitting in the passenger seat of a car. I also had the weird sensation that he’d been several degrees cooler when he picked me up, and he’d matched his body temperature to mine. Speaking of matching. We left by the door Bo’s gang had brought me through, across the ghostly hall, and out through the front door, which had been conveniently left ajar. What did I know about vampire deliberateness? I could barely recognize my vampire’s breathing as breathing. But I had a notion that he walked not merely without hesitation but very deliberately into the blast of sunshine at the foot of the porch, and turned left, toward the trees on that side. I felt my harness take the strain. If there had been real straps involved, they would have creaked. It was a long way to the edge of the wood. It was perhaps just as well he was carrying me; the heat of the sun seemed to be making me woozy. Heat doesn’t usually trouble me. One of the reasons Charlie had first let me help him with the baking when I was still small was because I was the only one of any of us who could stand the heat of it in the summer, including the rest of the staff. That was when Charlie’s was still fairly small itself, and Charlie was doing most of the cooking, before he opened up the front so we could have tables as well as the counter and the booths along the wall, and before he built my bakery. The bakery now is its own room next to the main kitchen, and there are windows and an outside door and industrial-strength fans, but in July and August pretty much everyone but me has to get out of there and splash water on themselves and have a sit-down. But this was something else. The big curly ripples of power I’d felt when we stood in front of the window seemed bigger and curlier than ever, and were slowing the rest of me down, taking up too much space themselves, squeezing the usual bits of me into corners, till I felt squashed, like someone in a commuter train at six p.m. Even my brain felt compressed. That sense of wearing some kind of harness that had also managed to nail itself into my major organ systems was still there, but I began to feel that it wasn’t so much carrying the burden as holding me together, so that the power ripples knew where the edges – the edges of we – were, and didn’t break anything. I didn’t feel frightened, although I wondered if I should. We reached the edge of the trees at last, and it was better at once in their shadow. I felt more alert, and lighter somehow, although I wouldn’t have described the effect of the ripples as heavy. But that feeling of having all my gaps filled a little too full eased somewhat. I remembered what he’d said about daylight: I feel as if the rays of your sun are prizing me apart. The tree-shadow wasn’t thick or reliable enough to protect us from the sun so the power was still moving through me, but I didn’t feel I was about to overflow, or crack. I thought: okay. I can guard one vampire from the effects of bright direct daylight. I wouldn’t be able to guard two. Not that this was a piece of information I was planning on needing often in the future. â€Å"We’ve crossed their line,† said the vampire. â€Å"The guard ring is behind us.† â€Å"They’ll know we have, won’t they?† â€Å"They’ll know tonight. We – do not pay attention to the daylit world.† â€Å"Will they know where?† â€Å"Perhaps. But I am following the traces from when they brought me here – and, so far, it is the same way they brought you – and without fresh blood they will have trouble deciding what is old and what is new.† â€Å"Uh†¦Ã¢â‚¬  This wasn’t a topic I was looking forward to bringing up. â€Å"You know you and I are both, uh, wearing quite a lot of my, uh, blood already. Uh. Crusted. From last night.† â€Å"That matters very little,† said the vampire. â€Å"It is only blood hot from a live body when it touches the earth that leaves a clear sign.† I reminded myself this was good news. He was silent for a while, and then he said, dispassionately as ever, â€Å"I had feared that even if you could, as you claimed, protect my body from the fire as we crossed the open space, that the sun would blind me. This did not happen. I am relieved.† â€Å"Oh, gods,† I said. â€Å"As you say. But as you said earlier, I did not see myself receiving any better offers either. It seemed to me worth even that price against the almost certain likelihood of annihilation at Bo’s hands.† I said, fascinated against my better judgment, â€Å"You thought I could navigate you through the trees somehow?† â€Å"Yes. I would not have been totally helpless. I can – detect the presence of solid objects. But it would not have been easy.† I laughed. It was the first time I had laughed since I had driven out to the lake alone. â€Å"No. I’m sure it wouldn’t have been.† We went on some time then in silence. We had to stop once for me to have another pee. Gods. Vampires didn’t seem to have bodily functions. I squatted behind him, holding one of his legs. While I was on the spot, so to speak, I had a look at his sore ankle. It still looked disgusting but I didn’t think it looked any worse. It occurred to me several times that we were making much better speed than we would have with me walking barefoot. And while the iron-railing effect was pretty painful I have ridden in cars with worse suspension than being carried by a striding vampire. That liquid motion thing they do is no joke, and one-hundred-twenty (give or take) pound burdens don’t dent it either. If the ankle was troubling him it didn’t show. The cut on my breast hurt quite a lot but I had more important things to worry about. He carried me so smoothly that it didn’t crack open anyway. Thankful for small favors. I felt that even our present momentous alliance might have been put under strain if I started bleeding on him again. I was keeping a vague watch on the sun through the trees over the lake, and also, with the power alive and working, I seemed able to sense it in some way other than seeing or feeling the touch of its light, and I knew when noon had come and gone. I had had a drink out of the water bottle a couple of times, and had offered it to my chauffeur, but he said, â€Å"No, thank you, it is not necessary.† He sure was polite after he’d decided not to have you for dinner. It was much farther back to my car than I’d guessed. Thirty miles, probably more. Maybe I still could have made it by myself before sunset, even barefoot. Maybe. But I wouldn’t have made it much farther, and the car wasn’t there. I’d explained where we were going when we had started out. The vampire had said nothing, but then he often said nothing, and he hadn’t disagreed. I had the knife-key in my bra; we’d either find him a nice deep patch of shadow while I did my trick again, or he could keep his hands on my shoulders to maintain the Sun Screen Factor: Absolute Plus. I hadn’t thought a lot beyond that. I guess what I was thinking was that a car equaled normal life. Once I got in my car and stuck the key in the little hole and the ignition caught, everything that had happened would be over like it had never happened, and I could just go back to my life again. I wasn’t thinking clearly, of course, but who would be? I was still alive, and that was pretty amazing under the circumstances. I hadn’t thought about what I would do with the vampire after we got to the car either. As much as had occurred to me was that he could keep one hand on my knee while I drove, or something. Nobody put his hand on my knee except Mel, but just how â€Å"somebody† was a vampire? I didn’t think I could shut even a vampire in the trunk, although the shade in there ought to be pretty total, and I wasn’t sure what the parameters were anyway. I knew that a heavy coat and a broad-brimmed hat weren’t fireproof enough and historians had long ago declared that the famous stories of knights in heavy armor turning out to be vampires weren’t true either, so probably one layer of plastic car wasn’t enough. But then what? Where do you drop off a vampire whom you’ve given a lift? The nearest mausoleum? Ha ha. The whole business of vampires hanging out in graveyards is bogus – vampires don’t want anything to do with dead people, and the people they turn don’t get buried in the first place. But old nursery tales die hard. (So much for Bram Stoker et al., Miss Yablonsky’s point exactly.) So I hadn’t made any contingency plans. When we got to the old cottage I said, â€Å"Okay, here we are,† and the vampire set me down, and I was standing on my own feet, and trying not to step on anything that would make me bleed. He was hovering, however, and it wasn’t only because of the sun; I’m sure he would have picked me up again faster than blood could drip if it had come to that. He had one hand tactfully on my elbow. The light was no more than dappled where we stood. Funny how the claustrophobic regrowth of wilderness scrub can suddenly seem treacherously open and sporadic when you’re thinking in terms of your companion’s fatal allergy to sunlight. I knew where I’d left the car. It was a small cabin and the place you parked was right behind it. â€Å"It’s not here,† I said stupidly. For the first time I felt the ripples of power lurch, as if they might knock me over, as if they might†¦spill over the lip of me somehow, and be lost. I couldn’t risk, no, I wouldn’t risk†¦I turned round and seized him, wrapped my arms around him, as if he were a seawall and could turn back any vagrant tide, contain any unexpected breaker. His arms, hesitantly, slid behind me, and it occurred to me that our prolonged physical contact was probably no more pleasant for him than it was for me, if perhaps for different reasons. I took a few deep breaths, and the ripples steadied. I steadied. He was a good wall. Really very wall-like in some ways. Solid. Immobile. I realized I had my face pressed against what I knew from experience was an ambulatory body†¦that had no heart beating. Funny. And yet there was a buzz of†¦something going on in there. Life, you might call it, for want of a better term. I had never met a wall that buzzed. I let go. He let go, except for one hand on my shoulder. â€Å"Sorry,† I said. â€Å"I thought I was losing it.† â€Å"Yes,† he said. â€Å"If I had lost it, you’d have die – fried, you know,† I said, to see what he would say. â€Å"Yes,† he said. I shook my head. â€Å"My kind does not surprise easily,† he said. â€Å"You surprised me, this morning. I have thus used up my full quota of shock and consternation for some interval.† I stared at him. â€Å"You made a joke.† â€Å"I have heard this kind of thing may happen, to vampires who linger in the company of humans,† he said, looking and sounding particularly vampirish. â€Å"It is not a situation that has provoked much interest. And†¦I am not myself after a day spent in daylight.† I’m not feeling a whole lot like myself either, I thought. I was carefully not thinking about the instinct that had thrown me at him just now. Wouldn’t grabbing a tree have steadied me at least as well? So what if maybe he fried? â€Å"So you are not surprised by the disappearance of my car. That makes one of us.† â€Å"I had thought it unlikely that Bo would allow so obvious a loose end to remain dangling.† â€Å"I’m sorry. Yes. That is – sense. But I don’t know what to do now.† â€Å"We go on,† said the vampire. â€Å"We must be well away from the lake before dark.† I was trying to bring my brain back into balance. Settling the ripples down seemed to have cost me a lot, and my brain didn’t want to produce coherent thoughts. I was also, of course, so far beyond tired that I didn’t dare look in that direction at all. â€Å"The lake?† I said. He paused again, so I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to like what followed. â€Å"Vampire senses are different from human in a number of ways. The one that is relevant in this case is that landscape which is all one sort of thing is†¦more penetrable to our awareness to the extent of its homogeneity. It is not the distance that is crucial, but the uniformity. Bo will be able to find us too easily within any of the woods of the lake because they are all the woods of the lake, even without blood spoor to follow. Once we are out of those woods†¦in some ways Bo will have more difficulty in tracing us than a human might.† A tiny piece of good news, if we lived long enough. Okay. The nearest way out of the woods was still the way we had been going – which must have been why the vampire agreed to it in the first place. The woods around the lake spilled into more woods and smaller lakes and some mostly deserted farmland before it came to any more towns. New Arcadia was the only city for some distance, and then there were a lot of smaller towns and villages spreading out from us, eventually themselves getting larger and closer together again till they became another city. But that was a hundred miles away. â€Å"Where are you going?† I said. â€Å"I am going where you are going till sunset,† said the vampire. â€Å"Then you are going where you are going, and I am going where I am going.† I sighed. â€Å"Yes. No. I didn’t mean to pry. Look, it is all very well that we have to get away from the woods, but that means going into at least the outskirts of the town. And while I can keep the sun off you, I can’t make you look human. And let me tell you your skin color is strictly incredible, and you’re not even wearing a shirt. And we don’t have a car.† The vampire took this without a tremor. â€Å"What do you suggest?† â€Å"The only thing I can think of is to plaster ourselves with mud – especially you – stagger a little, and hit town at the tip of the north end, where the druggies hang out. You do look a little like a junkie, or you look a little more like a junkie than you look like anything else. Human. With any luck any junkies that have eyes left to see you with will be so creeped out by how much worse it can get than they realized that nobody will say anything to us.† I paused. â€Å"Then there’s the poor but fairly respectable area, and they won’t like us, but if we keep moving they probably won’t call the suck – the cops. What worries me most is that some bright spark might guess you’re a demon. You manifestly can’t be a vampire because you’re out in daylight. But you aren’t, as I say, at all persuasive as human. You could be a rather dim demon who doesn’t realize how bad your passing for human is  œ and since we have to keep hold of each other someone might think you were kidnapping me – hell. And there’s at least one highway we have to cross too. Double Carthaginian hell. I don’t suppose you know that part of town at all?† â€Å"No.† â€Å"No. I don’t either, much. Well, if they don’t call SOF, we should be able to find the nature preserve my landlady’s house is on the other side of†¦I have no idea how far all of this is though. A ways. We could have gone directly through town in my car.† I looked apprehensively at the sun, which was nearing midafternoon, and there were still a lot of trees between us and pavement. â€Å"Indeed you would not have been best advised to go directly through town in your car, not with me in it with you. Your family will have given the – the identification number to the police.† â€Å"What? License plate. Oh. Oh. I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought of that either.† â€Å"I had not supposed you had brought me all this way to betray me at the last,† he said. No. â€Å"But†¦it’s likely to be well past sunset before we get to my apartment,† I said, trying not to sound desolate. I am not too tired to go on, I was telling myself. Not finding the car is only a setback. It’s not the end of the story. â€Å"I will see you home,† said the vampire courteously, like a nice, well-brought-up boy seeing his date back to her house after dinner at the local pizza place. There was no reason that this should make my eyes fill with tears. I was just tired. â€Å"I didn’t mean – oh – thanks,† I said. I should have wanted him gone as soon as possible. I should have been longing for the sight of the sun touching the horizon – at least once we got out of the trees. But I wasn’t. I was grateful that he was going to see me to my front door. Standing by the cabin and looking at the place my car should have been and wasn’t, I didn’t think I could do it without him. I was glad he hadn’t fried. We went down to the lake in our little connected duo. I had grown sort of used to being carried, and because it was such an odd thing to be doing at all, the crucial, fundamental oddness of our necessary proximity was less noticeable. Walking side by side with my hand tucked under his arm was much odder and more uncomfortable. I also found that it made me feel more lopsided. It was probably only a function of being so tired, but having the power exchange, or whatever it was, only going on through one hand made me feel dizzy. I leaned on him not very voluntarily. The ground here was mostly dirt and moss with a little struggling grass or grasslike weeds, so my bare feet were not in much danger. When we got to the shore I chose the marshiest place I could find – I knew where to look, there was a little inlet just east of the cabin – and made him sit down in it, and then rubbed bog slime and mud all over him, including his hair. He was so skinny my hands went thump thump thump down his ribs. He put up with all of this with perfect stoicism. He put one hand round my ankle – so I would have both hands free – but I told him to use both ankles for balance. My balance. I was a little more artistic about my own ornamentation. I only had to look like someone who might be jiving with this freak in a nonmandatory way. So I rubbed mud into my hair and let it drip down one side of my face and over that shoulder. I primly kept the mud away from the cut on my breast. My mother’s rules of hygiene were very clear about preventing dirt from entering an open wound, and I didn’t have a Band-Aid to hand. It would have had to be several very large Band-Aids anyway. (I hoped mud on the vampire’s injured ankle wasn’t going to cause him any problems: that the clean-of-live-things trick was a general defense.) Besides, the slash was probably good added verisimilitude and we could use all the help we could get. Verisimilitude of what? My lip was still swollen but it had stopped bleeding hours ago, and the metal tang of blood was no longer in my mouth. Hooray. I wanted to feel as little like a vampire as possible. I didn’t like the se nsation that the boundaries were getting a little blurry. I had spent a lot of time sitting by this same inlet with my grandmother. In the fifteen years since then it had changed its course and silted up. When we had sat here you could hear the small pattering stream that had created the inlet, but it was silent now. All I could hear was my own breathing, and the splat of my handiwork. There weren’t even any birds. The vampire insisted, if you could call it insisting, that he would carry me the last stretch of woods to the first streets of the town. Homogeneity, he reminded me, and blood spoor. And I remembered how much faster we went when it was only him walking – and that it was another twelve or fifteen miles to the edge of town – and made no protest. He carried me right up to the crumbling cement of the end of the last street, and let my legs drop down gently on the disintegrating curb. I didn’t have to pretend to lean on him to keep contact; I needed him to keep me upright. I put my arm through his and my hand on his wrist. We bumped gently at shoulder and hip. The power ripples sloshed a little as I adjusted to walking on my own feet again, but there was none of the sudden danger of losing my balance that there had been when I’d discovered the disappearance of my car. In fact the ripples now seemed to be slightly altering their shape and pattern to help me. The dizziness I’d felt when we walked down the inlet subsided. I had just enough sense left to put the now-empty bottle of water in a city litter bin. I don’t ever want to have another journey like those last fifteen or so miles across town. I know I keep going on about how tired I was, but that last exhaustion was like a mortal illness, and I felt I could see my death a few hundred feet down the street ahead of us. I’m a pretty good walker, but I’m talking about normal life: Mel and I might hike fifteen miles around the lake looking for animals and trying to stay out of the way of Supergreens, but we would take all day at it, have several rest stops and a long halt for lunch, and go home tired and pleased with ourselves. We would also be wearing shoes. This was fifteen miles on top of all that had gone before, and I’d been running on empty for a long time already. It wasn’t only my death I was seeing; I was beginning to hallucinate pretty badly. Lots of people get sort of gray, ferny, cobwebby mirages around the edges of their vision when they get overtired – and I’d had them before occasionally when we were shorthanded at the coffeehouse because everyone was sick but Charlie and me, and we were working sixteen-, eighteen-hour days day after day – but this was the first time the ferns and cobwebs had things moving around in them, not to mention the new, full-color palette. It was not an enjoyable experience. I did recognize what was going on, and went on peering through the fringes of my private picture show, and making out which way we should be going out there in the real world. I knew the layout of my city pretty well even if I didn’t know all its details, and even at this final personal frontier I kept my sense of direction. It was, however, just as well that I was so numb I was barely aware of my poor feet. And it was a good thing that blood spoor was no longer an issue. The sun was by now moving quickly toward setting, which should have been a good thing; the pair of us were going to be less grisly-looking in twilight. No one accosted us. We saw a few people, but either they were already totally lit and away and having much better private screenings than mine (which several of them were animatedly discussing with themselves) and couldn’t care less about us, or they took one look and crossed to the other side of whichever street we were on, and kept their eyes averted. I thought of asking the vampire if he was doing anything – if vampires can persuade, can they repel too? – but it was still daylight, if barely, so this didn’t seem likely. Maybe my power-ripples were doing something. Maybe that was part of the adjustment they’d made at the edge of town. Maybe we were just lucky. In the middle of all this I had a fierce implausible longing for my grandmother, who could have explained to me what I was doing – I was sure – and how I was doing it. As I started to slip over some kind of definitive last line, as I began to feel that the power-ripples were soon going to be all there was left of me, that my own personality was weakening, thinning, would blow away like the spidery gray stuff over my eyes, I suddenly, passionately, wanted to know what I was doing. It wasn’t the vampire the people were avoiding, though. It was me. I was the one reeling and mumbling and off my head and probably dangerous. I was fading with the daylight. I had stretched myself too far. I got us to the edge of the park at about the moment that twilight turned into darkness, and he picked me up again without so much as a break in his stride, and plunged under the trees, into the night that was his element. I could feel the power-ripples moving faintly through me even though I no longer needed them for a sun-parasol. I thought, mistily, maybe they’re trying to keep me alive. Nice of them. He must be trying too. Funny sort of thing for a vampire to do†¦ It was all darkness around us, darkness and trees, and the vampire speeding through it. Feebly I murmured, â€Å"I have no idea where we are any more.† â€Å"I do,† he said. â€Å"I can smell your house.† Perhaps I fell asleep. That would explain the dreams: that I was flying, that I was dead, that I was a vampire, that I was standing by the lake with my grandmother, and I had just opened my closed hands, but instead of a flower or a feather or a ring, blood welled up and spilled over the edges of my hands, and welled up and welled up, as if my hands were a fountain. But a fountain of blood. The vampire came to a halt. I blinked my eyes open and saw lights twinkling through a few trees, and made out the shape of my house. My house. We were on the far side of the garden. I could see the pale lavender of the lilacs by Yolande’s sitting-room window. She was the sort of old lady who had a sitting room instead of a living room. And the lights on in it meant she was still awake, although usually she went to bed as early as a person who gets up at four a.m. to go make cinnamon rolls does. I wondered what time it was. The vampire said, â€Å"You will need a key to open your door.† He could leave me here. I could ask him to let me down, and then he could go. I could knock on Yolande’s door, and, once the fright of having a derelict on her doorstep had worn off, after she had recognized me, she would let me in with her spare key. She would be appalled and sympathetic. She would call the coffeehouse and the doctor and the police. She would run me a hot bath and help me into it, and cluck over my wounds. She would not ask me any questions; she would know I was too tired, and she would recognize the signs of shock. She would give me hot sweet tea and orange juice, and human warmth and company and understanding. I couldn’t face her. Slowly I moved, to pull the knife-key out of my bra. The vampire knelt, holding me in his lap. I leaned against him, closed my hands round the small heavy bit of worked metal. I called on the power of daylight. It came from a lifetime away, but it came. I felt something snap, as if my stomach had parted company with my small intestine, or my liver from my spleen; but when I opened my hands again, there was the key to my front door. The vampire picked me up again, gently. He walked round the garden. He went silently up the porch steps, which I could not have done. The steps all creaked and the porch itself creaked worse. He drifted, dark and silent as any shadow, to my door, and, still in his arms, I twisted the key in the lock, turned the handle, pushed the door a tiny way open, and whispered, â€Å"Yes.† He carried me upstairs and through the door at the top and into my front room, and laid me on the sofa. I didn’t hear him stand up or move away, but I heard my refrigerator door open and close, and then he was kneeling beside me again. He slid an arm under my head and shoulders and raised me and stuffed pillows under me till I was half sitting, and said, â€Å"Open your mouth.† He dribbled a little of the milk into my mouth and made sure I could swallow it before he held the carton up steadily for me to drink. He cupped the back of my head with his other hand. What did he think he was, a nurse? I would have asked him but I was too tired. He got most of the carton of milk down me, eased my head back onto the pile of pillows and then started feeding me something in small scraps. After the first few, more of my senses came back from nowhere and I recognized one of my own muffins, left over at the end of that last day at the coffeehouse, several centuries ago. He was tearing off small bits and feeding them to me slowly, so I wouldn’t choke. The muffin was still pretty good but three days old to a baker counts as over. I think he may have fed me a second one, still scrap by scrap. Then he held up the carton of milk again till I finished it. Then he pulled the pillows back out, except for one, and laid me down with my head on it. I don’t remember anything more. I woke up I don’t know how many hours later with the light streaming through the windows. It had finally reached the sofa where I was lying, and touched my face. I couldn’t remember where I was – no I was at home – no, not my old childhood bedroom, this had been my apartment for nearly seven years – then why wasn’t I in my own bed – why did I remember sleeping on a floor – no, that had been a dream – no, a nightmare – don’t think about it – don’t think about it – and at the same time I knew I had overslept and should have been down at the coffeehouse hours ago and Charlie would kill me – no he wouldn’t – why hadn’t one of them called to find out where I was? I tried to sit up and nearly screamed. Every muscle in my body seemed to have seized up, and I didn’t think there was a single nerve end that hadn’t shouted NO when I moved. I ached all over, inside and out. And furthermore I felt†¦I felt as if all my insides, the organs, the organ systems, all that stuff you studied in biology class and promptly forgot again, all those murky, semiknown bits and pieces, no longer had the same relationship to each other that they had before†¦before†¦silly sort of thing to feel, I must be delirious. My mind would keep drifting back – don’t think about it – but how was I to make sense of where I was, at home, sleeping on the sofa, in broad daylight? And so sore I couldn’t move. If – all that – was a nightmare, what had happened to me? I tried to sit up again and eventually succeeded. There was a blanket laid over me, and it fell off, and onto the floor. I was wearing a filthy, stained, dark cranberry-red dress that clung round me at the top and swirled out into yards and yards of hem at my ankles. I was barefoot, and my feet were in shreds, scratched and abraded and bruised and swollen. I had mud all over me (and now all over the sofa and the floor as well) and a long, curved ugly slash across my breast that had obviously bled and then clotted. Its edges ground against each other and throbbed when I tried to move. My lower lip was split and that side of my face felt puffy. I started to shiver uncontrollably. Painfully I picked up the blanket again, and wrapped it round me, and made my way into the bathroom by feeling along the walls, and turned the hot water on in the bath. The hot water was going to hurt, but it was going to be worth it. I poured in about four times as much bubble bath as I usually use, and breathed the sweet lily-of-the-valley-scented steam. Even my lungs hurt, and my breathing seemed funny, there was something about the way I breathed that was different from†¦While I waited for the bath to fill, I groped my way into the kitchen. I ate an apple, because that was the first thing I saw. There was an empty carton of milk on the counter by the sink. I didn’t think about this. I ate another apple. Then I ate a pear. I moved into the light pouring through the kitchen window and let it soak into me while I stood staring out at the garden. In the welcoming, restorative sunlight, trying to keep my mind from thinking anything at all, I felt the tiny, laborious stirri ng of a sense of well-being: the convalescent’s rejoicing at the first hint of a possible return to health. I would have a bath, and then I would call the coffeehouse. I didn’t have to tell anyone anything. I could be too traumatized. I could have forgotten everything. I had forgotten everything. I was forgetting everything right now. My feet and my face and the gash on my breast would stop anyone from pressing me too hard to remember something so obviously terrible. Yolande must be out; otherwise she would have heard the bathwater running, and have come upstairs to find out if I was all right. She would have known that I’ve been missing, that on a normal day I would have been at the coffeehouse hours ago, not up here running bathwater. That I’ve been missing. That I’ve been†¦ I didn’t have to remember or think about anything. I could just stand here and let the sun heal me. I was relieved that Yolande wasn’t here, asking questions, being appalled and sickened. Reminding me by her distress. I was relieved that no one would disturb me till I had finished forgetting. The bath should be full by now. Now that the sunlight had begun to do its work I wanted to be clean. I might have to use every bar of soap I had, and bring the scouring pads in from the kitchen. I was going to burn this dress, wherever it came from. It was nothing I’d have ever chosen. I couldn’t imagine why I was wearing it. When I was completely clean again, and wearing my own clothes, I would call the coffeehouse, tell them I was home again. Home and safe. Safe. As I turned away from the window a square of white lying on the kitchen table caught my eye. It was my notepad, which usually lived beside the phone. On it was written: Good-bye my Sunshine. Constantine How to cite Sunshine Chapter 5, Essay examples

The Pink Notebook free essay sample

â€Å"I want you to stay† Once upon a time not so long ago, I wrote that exact line in our hot pink notebook we share. The we is not important right now but soon it will be. Let me explain, Im an 18 year old girl trying to live her life the best she can but once day this book was bestowed on her, â€Å"Dash Lily’s Book Of Dares†. Ever since I read it, it has become my bible. Lily creates this notebook that she leaves clues in, for someone to figure out and answer. This guy Dash finds the notebook and figures out everything. They go back and forth every other day. Which made me think, if Lily and Dash can do it, why can’t I ? So I said to myself, â€Å" Danielle you will make a notebook like theirs and trade it with someone every other day.† And then I answered myself, â€Å"Self of course im going to, but with whom?† The perfect person came to mind. We will write a custom essay sample on The Pink Notebook or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page Eric. Then the next question came up, what to put in the notebook, aha our favorite song, you cant go wrong with that. A month goes by and we are still doing this notebook exchange, and then something happens, Eric says, â€Å"I feel like I’m more like Lily than Dash. You are the only person that makes me smile by just being there.† Maybe this book has something to it, finding someone for you. Lily and Dash find each other so maybe there is some hidden secret to it. But what is it ? You see it has taken me so long to figure it out and one day it hit me like a million lions. The secret is†¦. Courage. You have to have the courage to take a chance. Lily and Dash had so much courage to pass a notebook back and forth with someone they have never met, we could all learn from them.