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On the side of a hill in the deep forest green, tracing a sparrow on snow-crested ground,
blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain sleeps unaware of the clarion call.
On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves washes the grave with silvery tears,
a soldier cleans and polishes a gun.
War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions, generals order their soldiers to kill
and to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten

Thursday, May 31, 2007

From Zero to Buried in 20 Minutes

Last night I hit a point I hadn't been to in a long time. There were no vinyls on my desk when I left (with no prospect of them showing up when I was gone). This morning I finished up some other scutt work. Coasting good. A good day.

And then the avalanche started. And it's all do today by 3pm. Blech.

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