And, as he was about to put himself into a posture of defence, his mother clasped him in her arms. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. They had always gone without because of their secret lifestyle. "All the wonderful things it is going to do! If I could only know for certain that my mother knew how happy I'm going to be!" "You love the memory of your mother?" "It is a part of my blood … my beautiful mother!" He saw Enschede, putting out to sea, alone, memories and regrets crowding upon his wake.
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