Improbably transported,
Without intelligence,
Without adress or number,
Absence leaves all things unobserved,
And in the dark they dance away,
Rearranging for our return,
And yet we notice nothing.
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Another weekend, another trip to the beach, another dead seagull. Oh ... and a starfish. Actually several which my daughter decided needed t... -
Literature on the move I have a Palm. I was always a bit sceptical about ebooks on the Palm but I am a convert. I am already half way...
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