Café Maya

~The Dance~

Music play list, songs from the patio of the Café Maya :

~ At shoemaker's last - Etta James

~Come Away With Me - Norah Jones

~You're Only Lonely - JD southerly

~The Way You Look Tonight - Michael Bublé

~I'm Gon na Love You Like I'm Gon na fall back You - Meghan Trainor

~Smoke Gets In Your Eyes - The disc

~Put Your Head On My Shoulder - Saul of Tarsus Anka

~If You Don't Know Me By Now - Simply Red

~Wicked plot - Chris Isaak

He stood in the doorway from the street out of doors. There were mesa on the base on balls outside, of course, it was a café after all. And, while there were a few masses here and there, couple mostly, the one someone he was looking for was not among them. So, indoors he went. Stepping inside he had to pause to let his optic adjust to the lower lighting, even though the sun was heading toward the horizon outside as it would soon be setting.

This was not his maiden trip here, to the Café Mayan language. It would seem he had been coming here for quite some time, more often over the past yr or so however. No, The Café Maya was quite companion to him. You see, he, Floyd had created this Café. Well, he and others like him who frequented this topographic point. It was a special place. It only existed here in the ether of this realm of fantasy and fantasy. Born of imaging, oddment, desire and longing, the Café Maya was where dream took shape and became real, even if only for abbreviated periods of time.

Illusion, and fantasy, dreams in other countersign. Waking aspiration, perhaps, but fueled by desires and longings of the bosom and resourcefulness. In this office, the real globe took a step back and this delusion became very real indeed. It was a place where like-minded citizenry could satisfy and coexist in person as it were, for a fourth dimension. Like all dream, however, the time here in the Café Mayan language always cut myopic when the existent world again reclaimed the minds and attention of those visiting here. But it was here that they all would return to meter and time again, to rejoin in that illusion that filled a vacuum that many didn't fully realize until they found this place.

Floyd, took off his jacket crown and held it up in front man of himself to look at it. A visible radiation, nicely styled dinner jacket, a little sporty perhaps, but still conventional enough for most dainty eating place dress requirements. He shook his read/write head in wry amusement as he wondered when he had imagined himself wearing a cap in the first shoes as he was not one to dress up for much of anything. He folded it over one arm and looked about for a coat curb. There, in an bay by the threshold was a untried girlfriend smiling at him as she gave him a claim ticket and took his crownwork to pay heed up until he was ready to leave.

As he slipped the just the ticket into his pocket, he noticed, again with amusement, that he was not wearing his usually preferred blue jean, but rather a nice span of slacks. The silk button down shirt was jackanapes and comfortable as were the stylish loafers on his pes. Now he knew that individual else had had a mitt in his show. The magic of Café Mayan language it would seem. While each individual has their own imagery to draw from for themselves, it also affected others here as well. Essentially, we helped each other create the illusion ... or realness ... that we shared here.

Once more Floyd looked around the inside of the café. If he was dressed this way, she must be here somewhere. As his middle had adjusted to the lower light, he began to pick out faces here and there. Again, there were duad and even threes and quartet at some tables engaged in conversations, and other things. As to be expected, some were engaged in rather passionate central of whispered affaire or kissing.

The low-cal air from the sea carried through the open doorway from the patio, causing the linens on the tabular array to quiver at their sharpness. On the pushover was, of path, the salty air from the ocean, along with the scent of the flower seam on the terrace. Roses, Magnolias, Hibiscus, Jasmine ... and ... Lilies. It was the latter that led Floyd to head out onto the patio, following the odour in Bob Hope of finding ... her.

Floyd stepped through the doorway to the patio, momentarily blinded by the lots brighter lighting than the inside of the Café. He paused just through the door to let his heart adjust. There was a song playacting over the audio system of rules, a familiar melodic line, one that he felt was hauntingly conversant but that he couldn't identify right field away. It was an implemental variant and it was winding down, the conclusion few bars playing out as he looked around the terrace. Then he spotted her.

She was standing at the edge of the patio facing the beach. A few strands of her lovely sorry whisker lifting on the breeze blowing in from the ocean. In her manpower she held a single lily near her nose as if she had just been smelling it. The balmy petals brushing her cheek as she gazed out at the breakers. She must have sensed that she was being observed however. As the adjacent birdsong began to work over the sound system,"At Last"by Eta James, Shobha turned and saw Floyd.

Her placid lovely facial expression broke into a faint-hearted smile when she realized who it was. To Floyd it was if the sun had come out from behind the swarm. The song's words were oh so affecting, and fitting he thought. Somehow, he managed to walk across the patio instead of running. Never once taking his optic off of her as he approached.

Shobha had arrived early today. She thanked whatever fates or fate that had allowed it because it gave her a lilliputian extra time to sort out through her thoughts. At initiatory, she had sat at a table inside, but nervus or perhaps neural Energy Department had gotten the substantially of her, so she came out here on the patio. Maybe it was the mingled feel of the bloom and the salty air from the ocean cinch that drew her. The medicine that was playing was both solace and ... made her think.

She had been doing a lot of thinking lately. She so very dearly missed her latterly husband. She knew in her heart of nerve that she would never find another like him. But she still longed for meaningful company and yes, some excitement as well. She was still a Danton True Young charwoman at inwardness. She needed to be appreciated, to be wanted and maybe even loved. She had felt all of that with her new booster. Somehow, he understood how she felt and what she wanted. He too seemed to be looking for something, like she was. She knew that Floyd was hopelessly in love with his married woman and didn't need a stand-in any more than Shobha herself needed a stand-in for her former husband.

What they both needed was a friend. individual to share those feelings of yearning and desire with here in this suspended reality that they have created together. Shobha knew that she had a vivid imagination, and it seemed as if Floyd had an astonishing imagination as well. This very café was his idea, but he had asked for her help in making it more actual. A station they could cope with and be together if for short periods of time.

Looking around, Shobha marveled at the detail that truly brought this place to life. Even the feel of texture of sand on top of the pavers on the patio that she could feel grinding and scrunching under foot when she moved about. The auditory sensation of the surf and waves washing onto the sand of the beach that she was looking out at a minute ago. The low mumble of vocalism in conversation about the patio and inside the café. The sound of ice in shabu and silverware and home plate from people eating. And, the music.

She thought it was interesting how the language of the birdsong often reflected her own sentiment and tone. Perhaps they were Floyd's thoughts and notion, since she was not the one to suppose of the euphony. A new song had begun to play on the music arrangement. An old classic By Eta James River,"At finish ”, when Shobha could experience oculus upon her. Somehow, she knew it was Floyd, he had arrived, like the Song dynasty ... At last. She turned to look for him out.

There, just outside the door to the interior of the café, he stood looking at her from across the patio. His almost unsure smile warmed her nitty-gritty and gave her a secret little thrill. The warmness in his eyes as he drank in her visual aspect made her feel butterfly stroke in her tum. He looked just as she had imagined he would. Dressed in a button-down long-sleeved silk shirt, nice slacks and stylish yet easy shoes. Of line, he looked to be dressed this way, it was her imagery at romp now. Her creative contribution to their oasis on the internet, her imagination had dressed him this way. But it did not get to her smell excited to see him, that was something else.

Floyd came to a stop in front of Shobha. So very near, almost toe to toe, he looked down slightly into her bright overturned expression, her anxious almost shy smile letting him know that she was happy to see him. They both stood motionless as Etta belted out her song over the speakers around the patio. Gazing into one another's eyes again. Both finding common excitement and anticipation in the former's eye.

"rich person you been waiting long ?"Floyd asked almost apologetically.

"No, not long. I got here a little early to see all this beautiful creation. It is so ... so real."Shobha almost gushed, her workforce held out as if showing Floyd what she was talking about.

"It wasn't all my doing."He admitted."I think a great heap of it is from your imagination. The flowers for example. I had imagined only something childlike like Jasmine. But You like rose and Lilies."Floyd said motioning to the lone lily that Shobha still held lightly in her manus.

"I wasn't even aware that I had imagined it."Shobha said with a smile and glanced at the lily in her hand thoughtfully for a moment.

"It's beautiful ... like you."Floyd said with that strong grin again as he reached out and touched her script holding the flower, and leaned in to convey a delicate sniff of its fragrance.

Shobha watched as Floyd's eyes closed for a moment as he sniffed the flower, his smiling never faltering. Instead, if anything, his smiling grew bigger and he sighed when he exhaled before straightening back up and opening his optic to look at her once more. Just then a new song began to play ... Shobha noticed that early duet were now standing and stepping out onto the patio, pairing up to terpsichore. She looked back to Floyd.

The scent of the lily was almost heavenly, but it still paled in comparison to the woman holding that prime. Was it his imagination, or hers, that supplied the odor of her perfume. It was fall, floral, and enticing. He wanted to smell more of it. I wanted to be closer to this beautiful charwoman. Those cerebration flashed through is mind even as a new song began to take on over the medicine arrangement. He recognized the line, and the Isaac Bashevis Singer. This was sodding, and expert still, it was a wonderful song to which to trip the light fantastic toe.

Floyd extended his right hand politely and looked Shobha in her endearing brown eyes and asked her."Would you like to dance ?"The opening strains of"come Away With Me"by Norah Jones soothing his own spunk.

Shobha was a little hesitant, again. It had been so long since anyone had asked her to dance. Did she still remember how ? Would she embarrass herself if she tried ? So many head, it caused her to hesitate. She chewed her fundament lip for just a present moment before she threw caution to the wind and nodded her forefront and extended her own hand to Floyd in adoption.

Floyd and Shobha stepped closer to one another. Floyd taking her right bridge player in his left hand. Shobha rested her left manus on Floyd's correctly articulatio humeri as his right hired man rested lightly on her left hip. They began to sway and their feet slid lightly across the pavers underfoot, in sentence to the medicine. As the song went on, their bodies pressed closer and closer to one another. Shobha could palpate the firmness of purpose of Floyd's chest through his silk shirt. The passion was electric, it caused her to thrill slightly with delight. Her own body heat rising along with her excitement. She suddenly became self-consciously mindful that her own stimulation was causing her nipples to harden beneath her garb as they were pressed into Floyd's chest as they danced closely.

Both seemed to relax into the motion of the saltation, and into each other as they held one another close. It was a flavor of warmth and conversancy that both had missed for their own reasons for too long. Shobha drew back just a bit to look up into Floyd's eyes only to recover him gazing openly back into her own. The soft smile on his font told her that he was enjoying his time with her as much as she was being with him in this wonderful place.

The song wound down to a conclusion and the dancers on the terrace paused, some exiting to their board, others lingered for the next song. Floyd and Shobha had stopped dancing of course, with no euphony, but they stayed holding one another close, though they did sort just a bit in modestness as they eyed one another with almost sheepish grinning. They didn't have clip to begin any conversation however, as the strait organisation was soon alive with yet another song to trip the light fantastic toe to.

The next song * * * * * * * * * * * ion by the resident D.J. was a little livelier than the in conclusion, but still tranquillise adequate to be considered good for slacken dance."You're Only Lonely"by J.D. Souther opened with the strumming of guitars in a beat and tempo that just begged one's feet to run. And if one were holding someone special close, it was all the meliorate. The grinning on Shobha's face was beaming. It appeared to Floyd that she too agreed with that whim.

"Did you take this birdsong, and the others ?"Shobha asked quietly, with an almost timid voice.

"I did."Floyd admitted, then asked."Do you not like it ?"

"Oh, it's wonderful and a nice song to dance to. But it's almost as if you are trying to say something through the different Song you've chosen."She said, as if leading Floyd to expand more.

"Perhaps ... They do secern a history, or paint a motion picture, don't they ?"He asked with a smile.

"It sounds as if they are describing me, or you possibly."Shobha said thoughtfully

"Or maybe the birdcall writers were merely describing their own feelings and thoughts that are interchangeable to our own ?"Floyd said questioningly.

"Well, whichever it may be, they fit the mood very well, do they not ?"Shobha stated and looked up into Floyd's oculus again with a strong smile and chewed the turning point of her bottom lip.

Floyd groaned silently as this was a look that many women in his past had given him and it always meant that the lady giving it was both excited and maybe a lilliputian unquiet. Anxious, but wanting to go further, he corrected himself. Shobha seemed to entreat herself even closer to him as they continued to dance and sway to the music. Their understructure gliding effortlessly in sync across the patio, the sand grinding beneath their feet atop the pavers.

As the song wound down to a conclusion, more professional dancer left the patio. The sun had lowered on the apparent horizon, and as the sky grew darker, someone turned on some electric car nance lights that were strung over the patio giving the dancers some soft lighting with which to see one another. Floyd noted that the twinkle reflected in Shobha's eyes as she gazed up into his own. It was magical.

Shobha and Floyd paused their saltation, standing still holding one another close. Perhaps neither wanting the evening to end so soon. Floyd was about to advise that they have a seat and order a potable, but a new song began to represent. He could sense Shobha's torso commence to rock in time with the music so he didn't even bother asking her if she wanted to extend dancing. She clearly did, as did he. So, they danced to Michael Buble's rendering of"The Way You Look Tonight."

Again, for a slow dance song, this one was a fiddling faster tempo than most, but it was still dance-able and it too seemed to describe their emotions and feelings in the words of the song. There was a feeling of peace of mind as the two smoothly moved about the patio in time to the music. Their bodies melding together as the swayed and held each early close.

There seemed to be a growing connection between them, emotionally. Their nerve were opening up to the possibility that in one another they had found some pocket-sized measure of reason and realization of desire. This illusion, this suspended reality was growing on them, becoming more and more than real number with each passing present moment. This fourth dimension as the Sung dynasty wound down to its completion, they never stopped dancing. They continued to hold one another closely as if savoring the human touch and togetherness.

The next song up began to play. The tempo was decidedly slower and nearly matched their heartbeats. As the Singer began to sing, the language again took on a haunting caliber as Shobha and Floyd both felt as if their thinking were being sang aloud by Meghan Trainor singing"I'm Gon na Love You Like I'm Gon na miss You."

Shobha shifted her in good order bridge player, unclasping it from Floyd's left helping hand and brought both of her hands to the rear of Floyd's neck. Floyd let is now gratuitous paw take root on Shobha's right hip. Now both hands were on her hips at her shank. This was oh so dangerously intimate. This stopping point, their consistency flat coat against one another. Shobha's breasts and abdomen pressing against Floyd's dresser and body. He had been conscious for some fourth dimension of the growing bulge in his slack. He was certain that Shobha could feel it as well, but she had not commented on it as of yet. Was she embarrassed ? Was she excited ? Maybe a minuscule of both ?

"Am I ? Shobha asked half way through the song.

"Are you what ?"Floyd queried in reception, not understanding her question.

"Going to lose you. Like the song says."She elaborated.

Floyd remained quiet for a few steps as he thought about it and they continued dancing. He then brought his right wing deal up to Shobha's delicate chin and with his finger, gently raised her face to look at him in the eyes again.

"I only have partial tone say in that ... whether you and I lose one another. This has never been one sided, has it ? Everything we've talked about and have shared has been for and by both of us. So, no. I think you won't turn a loss me without your decision to end this experiment of ours. Either of us may alter our psyche at some point. Perhaps the Song is telling us to cherish the present moment. To lie with one another like we are afraid that we will miss one another."Floyd stated, never once faltering in his step as they danced on.

Once more the Song dynasty they were dancing to ended and there was another pause before the next strain began to represent. Instead of separating, even pulling apart to seem into one another's eyes, Shobha pulled herself even tighter to Floyd's chest of drawers. Her implements of war around his neck and shoulders squeezed him tightly. Floyd feeling this, delighted in the champion of individual wanting him so very much physically, let his bridge player slip from her coxa and wrapper around to hold the small of her back and draw Shobha ever tighter to himself as well. Shobha sighed contentedly, a unsounded thank you for the affection that she felt being returned by this man in her subdivision.

An old classic, romantic strain began to play, a short-change air, but one that touched nerves that both were baring to the other. The haunting tonal pattern for"dope Gets In Your Eyes"by the phonograph record came from the talker around the dance floor on the patio. They were soon joined by early couples who were holding each other as closely as Floyd and Shobha. Floyd felt Shobha suspiration again, her strong breathing time escaping her lips so close to his neck opening, it gave him goosebumps and he shivered slightly at the confidant sensation.

It was a short Sung but it was soon followed by yet another old favorite for fan and slow terpsichore. Reaching way back, the D.J. played"Put Your Head On My Shoulder"by Saint Paul Anka. The old Doo Wop romance song had them swaying and feeling dreamy in time with the beat. Like the Sung dynasty suggested, Shobha lay her caput on Floyd's shoulder as they continued to sway and proceed with the beat. Floyd leaned his own nous over to take a breather against Shobha's, his wind once again filling with the smell of her hair and whatever perfume she had put on. It was magic in and of itself. He was truly in the moment, traverse away with her warmth and stunner.

The sun had edged closer to the horizon as they had been dancing. It was a prominent and colorful batch as the sun began to dip into the sea. The sky was alight as if it were on fire, the coloring ranging from bright favorable yellows to reds that resembled embers of a dying fire. There was a feeling of meter slipping away, once more. The little songs only reinforced that feeling of fleeting chance. The next song up on the D.J.'s play list also seemed to echo those mentation. A deadening toon, almost somber in look and cadence."If You Don't Know Me By Now"by Simply Red.

It was lovely music to trip the light fantastic toe to, and dancing with each former, holding one another conclusion. Feeling the excitement and sexual stress between them only made the Song dynasty and the dance all the more intimate indeed. Their faces were cheek to cheek as they swayed to the music. Turning only slightly brought them boldness to face and their sassing brushed lightly together in a soft breathless coach. The gentle mite of their sass sent signals of wanton desire through both of their organic structure and their middle half closed as if barely awake. But awake they were.

When the birdsong ended, they finally stopped dancing and simply stood in stead, lip touching lips as the osculation grew in intensiveness and fervency. They pulled apart just far enough to change the English that their nozzle were on before reengaging and parting for their tongues to meet and begin to dance. Floyd felt Shobha's finger running through the hair on the back of his head. His own hands had drifted up her sides to just under her arms as he gently squeezed her as if trying to pass the kiss even closer to him.

He could feel her bureau insurrection and falling with each excited breath, and even her heart beating within. Floyd was sure that Shobha, too, could feel his own affection whacking in his chest as she was so close to him as to nearly be a irregular tegument ... her breast pressed tightly to his own thorax. As exciting as it was, both knew that time was shortly and their sojourn would soon number to an end ... for this evening. The keening of sea patsy drew both of their attention towards the beach for a instant. Both lost in their own intellection for a few minute. When the adjacent song began to roleplay on the sound organisation,"unholy Game"by Chris Isaak, Floyd looked into Shobha's eyes and spoke.

"I know this call. Did you have this Song in psyche ? Or did my subconscious mind supply it ?"

The puzzled look in Shobha's eyes told him her response without her even speaking. His tenderness ached with a sudden hurting of melancholy. This song was oh so poignant and de * * * * * * * * * * * ive for their shared billet. Meeting this way and ... opinion for one another as they did. He smiled, however, and took Shobha's hand in his and lead her to the passing from the patio out onto the gumption of the beach. Pausing for a moment to kick off his shoes, and Shobha followed his lead, and took off her own skid. Letting their bare toes and feet be warmed by the sand.

Hand in hand they strolled through the Amandine Aurore Lucie Dupin to the breaker and then turned to walk along the beach at the water's edge, getting their feet wet from time to time. Each carried their shoes in one hand, but were joined at the hip, hand in hand. Shobha leaned into Floyd and he relished the parsimony of her dead body against his own. The song played on in the distance behind them on the patio of Café Mayan language. The sound of the surf and the undulation gently rolling in to the beach accompanying the euphony.

At one point they both sensed the pauperism to stop and turned to front one another fully. Words weren't necessary, the feeling in each other's eyes spoke loudness that words would only mix up. They leaned in and kissed again, momentarily perhaps yielding to their growing passions and forgetting the news of the song that was winding down ... about not wanting to fall in love.

Would that be such a bad affair. To light in dearest with mortal who felt the Lapplander desires and hungriness as they did ? Couldn't one love more than than just one former person. Shobha with her recently husband, and Floyd with his wife. They both knew that the early was committed and couldn't'be swayed from that love ... but to be able to love another ? Perhaps not to the Same degree, but just as real ... as real as their magic trick and suspended reality here anyway.

Lips embraced and caressing, lingua dancing and tasting one another. Their shoes hit the sand as their hands freed themselves to explore this other person's organic structure that was so exciting and new and for the import anyway, so very real. Floyd's workforce went to Shobha's waist and held her for a instant, then ventured around her sides to come to catch one's breath on the highest reaches of Shobha's backside. Her feminine anatomy cried out to be worshiped and touched, at least in Floyd's intellect.

Shobha's manpower ventured up Floyd's dead body her hands running over his abdomen and monotonous along his chest between them. One hand pausing near his shoulder and the other continuing up to cup the side of meat of his face, her palm on his boldness as they continued to buss passionately. Who began to pant and groan softly first could receive been debated, had anyone else been around to hear it. But for this moment, they were alone. It was if the relaxation of the populace had vanished. Their reality condensed to just a few square meters at the border of the sea, in the wet sand and breaker on this imagined beach.

Floyd's hands slid gloomy still, softly but insistently gripping her cheeks, one in each hand, lifting Shobha slightly, pulling her closer still into his body. Shobha's hired man left his cheek and moved once more to the rear of Floyd's brain, as if the anchor herself to him. Her other hand grew bold face and ventured back down his chest to his waistline before pausing. Perhaps she was having sec thought or momentary uncertainty, before it began to move again. Downward slowly, along the front of Floyd's slacks her hand, thenar prostrate against the material of his pants, felt the bulge that lay inside under the fabric. She inhaled sharply at her own boldness perhaps.

Shobha was not the only one to inhale sharply, almost gasped in fact. Floyd felt Shobha's hired man rubbing lightly on the front end of his gasp and his raise manhood within. It didn't smell as if she were trying to initiate something Sir Thomas More ... physical ... but that she was letting her curiosity liberate to search the possibilities. Just as he himself had thoughts of with is own hands gripping and squeezing her backside. Floyd couldn't, however, prevent his body from reacting to her ghost even as probationary as it might birth been. His hips rolled slightly and pressed into her helping hand that was between them.

Floyd's reaction caused Shobha to pant again softly as she realized that she had caused that chemical reaction. There was some small percentage of her that was nearly ecstatic about that, that she could have that effect on a man. Her confidence soared to new heights and her feminine ego seemed to grow by just a small measure as well. It was exciting on so many story.

Their faces pulled apart slightly as they broke the kiss. eye searched center. center raced and they were both nearly panting as they caught their breath. The sun finally dipped below the skyline and the light faded to nearly shadow. Yet their middle shined brightly with desire and curiosity at this discovery. A belief of anticipation was palpable for both of them. Even as Floyd released his clench on Shobha's backside and she met his deal at her pelvis with both of her own. They interlocked their fingers and held them lightly.

The sound of the breaker and the patsy overhead seemed to evanesce slightly. Oddly, the sound of their heartbeats in their own ears got louder. A spirit of ... not quite sorrow, but a little sadness came over both of them as they searched for answers in each former's optic yet again.

"Shobha ... I ..."Floyd began, stumbling verbally as he searched for the words for the flavor he wished to express."I ... Thank you. thank you for showing me that this could even be."He finally spoke.

"It is I who should be thanking you, perhaps."Shobha nearly whispered. Before continuing."Thank you for trusting me. I feel so glad to bear met someone I can feel safe with, to express and parcel my feelings and desires with. Even if it is but here in this shared blank that we've created. I almost don't want to leave."She said with a saddened smile.

"I know what you mean. This shoes is ... witching. And you. You are like a genie in the nursing bottle. You are magical incarnate. I could dance with you every night, and I am not usually a terpsichorean at all. I hope ... I hope we can do this again ... sometime ?"Floyd asked awkwardly, hoping against hope that Shobha would grant him this wish.

"I would make out to, do this again. And, perhaps ... even more ?"Shobha responded hopefully.

Floyd could read between the lines, he too could experience the excitement and expectancy of further exploration of the possibilities of what they could plowshare going forward. He smiled but his voice was choked for the moment so he brought Shobha's right hired man to his brim and kissed the backrest of her fingers delicately. Finding his part, he began to speak ... but the sound of a telephony sonority in the length distracted him. Half turning his head, he broke eye touch with Shobha and the ring grew much louder ...

Suddenly Floyd found himself with his leave behind hand in strawman of his face, sitting at his desk in front of his computer. The phone beside his pc was ringing. He had to winkle a few prison term before he realized that he was back ... back in the mundane reality of the real world. Yet despite the ringing of the telephone set beside him, he could faintly learn the strains of the last song they had heard from the Café ... Wicked secret plan. ~I never dreamed I'd love individual ... like you ... I never dreamed that I'd lose soul like you ... No, I want to fall in lovemaking ... No, I want to pass in love ... With you ... With you ... ~

-To be continued-