SHERGAR`S FIELD

Flying through fields of green grass, rasping the stern hoofs of the magic horse; the idyllic scene transformed into a solemn mystery; WHERE IS SHERGAR?

A shimmer in the mist of darkness.

Do you remember my unexpected departure from the world of fame? I once was the greatest of the running meats, Ascot collapsed under my feet and my sovereign triumph (no elephants needed to blur their noses for peanuts) was a flag unflured. Departure....
Nobody knows where I am or what became of me in the claws of desperate terrorists. Hungry? I hope they enjoyed the meal.

I am the spirit-lamp of past vainglorious times. Find the jockey! Red alert as the brown star explodes in a massive attack against slaughterhouse knifes. Green fields. No more sneaky affairs in a hidden stable.

The Bushlurking Hen

is awaiting... So arabesque are her Camden-like pages - a little rattle-tattle of that and a mouthfull of rag-tags. Inbetween: spurned pearls well hidden in suspicious graphics.....

Ingvar's Corner

Le Confessionale

Literature

Art

Hurtigruta


Irish links



shergar@oocities.com


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