Wings of Danger

Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. The familiar figures of the every-day have passed on, and the hawthorn lane is silent. The tall old church-windows eastward are black in the gathering dusk. And so, while the pictures are flashing on the screen, let me go back to the girl with the memory haunting eyes. To begin in Johannesburg public square. Flowing by endlessly, like a running stream in eddies.