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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

Sunday, July 26, 2009

No place like Gnome

Back home. Tired to the bone. A lot of good information, lots fun stuff, lots of network and catching up with friends.

Would like to talk about it all, but see that tired thing. Tomorrow is the day job. I guess the village has also been a buzz this past weekend as people finally get that we're going to ask them to change their government in a big way (well, not really, but because it's NEW they don't think it's good). I guess there were many phone calls this weekend.

So for at least the next two days I'm going to be dealing with Night Job stuff.

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