Irene

Irene Pepperberg, a researcher at Northwestern University, is discovering that a parrot can not only mimic people but also learn the meaning of words.

Irene Pepperberg holds a round tray in front of a parrot she has named Alex.

The American news is reporting that Hurricane Irene is as big as Europe, which is a bit of an exaggeration.

Irene is from Peru. She is Peruvian.

Irene is from the Gulf of Mexico. She is a hurricane.

It was not that he felt any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise, but admirably balanced mind.

It is now Saturday, the 12th of July of 2014. My Chinese neighbours Irene, Fred, and RJ have a garage sale, from which I buy 8 Chinese books, including the translation of George Orwell's 1984. It is really a prize, a treasure about an alternate history of three competing supernations—Oceania, Eurasia, and Eastasia—on Earth. All the books are in the most modern form of logograms, often called "Simplified Chinese" as contrasted with "Traditional Chinese." The family are ground floor tenants of Chinese-Indian Moli and Chinese Leong, both from Fiji. Their house with a big back balcony is next to and north of my home on Lulu Island.

On a recent Saturday morning in Manhattan's Morningside Heights neighborhood, Irene Zola — tall with a long mane of silver hair — stands on a busy Broadway sidewalk.

But lest I be thought too literall, give me leave to allegorize upon this Irene. Her name is a Greek name, Εἰρήνη, it signifies peace; we must not dote upon our Irene, our private peace, that the publique should suffer for the sake of it.

"And I have such a horrible name. Think of it... Kate. Who would take Kate on a Moonlight Cruise...or out to the Minstrels at the point. If you ever do find me in the company of a strange young man, call me Irene. Promise me."