Of emojis AND PLOUGHSHARES
Some friends and I were gathered around a pot of lamb stew the other night when World War III broke out.
We were quarrelling over politics, of course. And from politics we moved on to the economy. And then on to crime.
“And I have had it with newspapers as well,” declared Koos, a farmer with hands like ploughshares. He banged one of the ploughshares on the table so hard that the candles
