The bull stepped around the crumpled body like a dainty lady avoiding a mud puddle, its tail swishing at heat and all the greenflies gathering in its wake, their own bodies flashing in the noonlight like a shattered gemstone tossed up in the heavy harbour air that would be Sam's last breath of Ceylon for ten years.

Well, that's the reason, he says, “People change like seasons, Without any reasons...”

Don't take it personally. We're just being ironic.

Our online catalogue is one long page: can we make individual products bookmarkable?