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A Clear Midnight
By: Walt Whitman THIS is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless, Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done, Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best. Night, sleep, death and the stars.
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Elementary, my Dear Watson!
I’ve been a little unplugged the past few weeks. By unplugged I mean NO INTERNET SERVICE. I was simply informed that ‘they’ updated the towers near my house to give me faster service. Guess what- I have no service now. This has created some annoyance but I have dealt with it, mainly because I don’t…
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