The next morning's mail brought a letter from Ethel, a few lines of encouragement and affection. Yes, she was right; it would not do for him to stay under one roof with Reginald any longer. He must only obtain the manuscript and, if possible, surprise him in the attempt to exercise his mysterious and criminal power.

Ernest conducted Ethel Brandenbourg to his room and helped her to remove her cloak.

While he was placing the garment upon the back of a chair, she slipped a little key into her hand-bag. He looked at her with a question in his eyes.

"Yes," she replied, "I kept the key; but I had not dreamed that I would ever again cross this threshold."

"Budapest seems a wonderful place... The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the East." So begins Bram Stoker's Dracula, written in a time when the city was seen as Europe's final frontier. Today, Budapest is rather more familiar (it joined the EU in 2004) - although it has lost none of its original appeal.

Staring out the window
At the cotton covered sky
I'm reminded of a story
Of two friends
Who should have been lovers
But were afraid
Too bad
It wasn't a very good book.

Diarmuid O'Duibhne
January 14, 2002

your blood so sweet,

biting harder and waiting for an unheard scream,

drinking long and feeling your pain and agony,

holding you close and wanting you to always stay with me,

lapping at your liquid soul,

watching you turn and walk away, feeling a deep hole...

the pain anger and fear eating away inside of me,

standing, looking at your form disappear, nothing more to see,

searching what's an eternity for a place to bury my dispair,