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Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air
And deep beneath the rolling waves in labyrinths of coral caves
An echo of a distant time comes willowing across the sand
And everything is green and submarine.

And no one called us to the land
And no one knows the where's or why's
Something stirs and something tries
Starts to climb toward the light.


Wednesday, November 10, 2010

On break from learning the holes in your head

But we call them "foramen" to be nice.

And I gotta ask, what's up with the roll-on luggage as bookbag? I can understand part time profs using them (office on wheels), but students? I mean it just felt like I was going through O'Hare Airport just now.

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