What follows here is a tale that is born of imagination and woven into the colourful fabric of history. A time that is slowly slipping away from the present into the recesses of the libraries and curio drawers. Its reality exists as a collage of the fanciful and the mundane, yet it does not purport to alter that which already was. It is a tale of love separated by time and distance in circumstances on the verge of fading memories.

If we are to travel back in history a thousand years we discover William the Conquerer with his Normans assuming the throne of England and assuming their place in its history. Five hundred years later, these same people would come from France and England to contest ownership of the New World. In fact, many would be descended from the Normans of France, and the Normans of England.

So it is in complete irony that on the morning of June 6th, 1944, for many of the men of the 3rd Canadian Division, the charge upon the beaches was a return to their ancestral home. And although not in the conscious of the riflemen and tank troopers, perhaps it was this buried deep within their genetic make-up so that it would lead them to achieve the highest successes of all the forces landing on that day.

Thus in the mist where fact meets fiction where the visual record is in varying shades of black to white, this tale will move in tribute to those souls and the ones who loved them.





The Boy with the Filthy Laugh ....This is the first draft of this and I will be making considerable changes to it; namely putting it into third person, however, for the time being it is as it is. Also, it helps if you have heard the song referenced in this.


The Autumn Rains ....The unexpected greeted by the unexpected.


The T-Shirt ....Thinking about you thinking about me.


Missing You ....The joy of reunion.


Joy ....The joy of reunion...the next day.


The Dream..... ....Behold the night, its secrets astound.


The Shower ....An exploration.








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