’ ‘I paint because it is art,’ he persisted, ‘art is the most immediate way to become close to others. Every stroke of paint, tells you who t...e person was, or what they felt or what they knew, anything and everything about them.’ ‘You sound so sure,’ I though back to the forest, and it saddened me. Perhaps I never knew him, the one I loved. I had never seen his art, there had never been a stroke of colour on his cheek to see. There was nothing to see. ‘I am sure.’ He said succinctly. He. Almost time... almost...Pugsley glanced down, and saw a small "x" chalked onthe walkway ahead of him. He paused, glancing upwithout moving his head. Yes, there... behind thatwindow....A mischievous grin spread over his face. He steppedover the mark.Wednesday released her cord.Swish!The huge blade swung past Pugsley, just brushing theseat of his pants as he hurried forward at a paceslightly faster than normal. He turned and watchedthe razor-sharp battle-ax swing back and forth onthe end of a. More

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