There will be no end to this catalogue. The ogres are everywhere. Number thirteen: Alibhai M. Moosajee of Mombasa.

Mother, whose footprints are these?

ablutions

When the wife was rescued by her human kin, her human–looking child was also saved, but Kiptegen was burnt alive.

Katandabaliko

dotard

Iimũ

Eventually, she will murder Dhegdheer by filling her ear with boiling water.

Alibhai

memoried

penultimately

Verbaluce

MobiPak

bad woman.

They chose to be here. Why would they go off with some total— Cops laugh.

SGs off in activist van somewhere, laughing butts off.

Eva extra ice cream, due to I had spoken harshly to her.

Who cares about stupid bumper, we’re going to get a new car soon anyway, when rich, right?

Am getting off track, due to tired, due to those fighting cats.

Image that stays in mind

smitten part

great mechanician, the unblest foundling, Bannadonna.

Talus was to have been the all-accomplished helot’s name.

From the mystery unavoidably investing it, the popular solution of the foundling’s fate involved more or less of supernatural agency. But some few less unscientific minds pretended to find little difficulty in otherwise accounting for it

Bannadonna lay, prostrate and bleeding, at the base of the bell which was adorned with girls and garlands. He lay at the feet of the hour Una, his head coinciding, in a vertical line, with her left hand, clasped by the hour Dua. With downcast face impending over him, like Jael over nailed Sisera in the tent, was the domino; now no more becloaked. It had limbs, and seemed clad in a scaly mail, lustrous as a dragon-beetle’s. It was manacled, and its clubbed arms were uplifted, as if, with its manacles, once more to smite its already smitten victim. One advanced foot of it was inserted beneath the dead body, as if in the act of spurning it.

But as he suffered no one to attend him in these inspections, he concealed the blemish

prostration

unburthen

Only get rid altogether of your nonsensical trash about the beautiful, which I nor nobody else, nor yourself to boot, could ever understand,–only free yourself of that, and your success in life is as sure as daylight

all with their faces turned from the streets, as if churlishly disinclined to inform the wayfarers what o’clock it was

ineffaceably

mark