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This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti


Word of the Day
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Author Topic: Plastic  (Read 195 times)
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« on: December 06, 2018, 12:47:02 AM »

The black smoke is thick and billowing the smell stabbing my nose and I watch the turret sink into the green chassis and I imagine oil burning perhaps at sea. The power and magnificence of it and the chessboard with its straight lines and the wild chaos of a contender in a t shirt amid the suits and ties and the straight lines and the concentration like burning fires sitting on top of stems. Calories burned per second and the air is stilted and comforting outside itís damp but the rows of tables and chairs and people playing. The sound clack whoop clack whopp and the chairs creak and magnus is wearing a blue suit and his body scrunched then floppy then his face agile then wolffish and the air is thin and the snow is crunchy under my foot I look across the canyon at the next peak and the snow like a postcard looks so inviting and silky and the cool air gets thinner like in a scale predictable like a monk predicting impossible facts and the orange robe and round glasses and implacable smile and the still air of bengal mountains and a lone sitar playing with tabla Iím transported not away but inside myself to a peaceful and yet purposeful place where God is one with us and we with everything I can feel Him inside and I feel I am Him and that thereís a power I canít even think straight about and the sitar is an expression of this of the love but also is that same power the music and instruments so well suited to this task to devotion and I see the master leaving and I run up to him and ask him to teach me I want to make those sounds I want to learn it and the dusty plains and wild maddening crowds and the peace and the violence I can take it all in that twang like a fine mist being pierced with a
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