[90818] in Discussion of MIT-community interests
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daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Caringforaparent.com)
Fri Oct 28 06:55:37 2016
Date: Fri, 28 Oct 2016 06:55:36 -0400
To: mit-talk-mtg@charon.mit.edu
From: "Caringforaparent.com" <caringforaparentcom@careparent.top>
Reply-to: "Caringforaparent.com" <caringforaparentcom@careparent.top>
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him. Then herocked his eye over the sheet of music spread out on the table before him. He tried his flute. Andthen at last, with the odd gesture of a diver taking a plunge, he 6yhc
swung his head and bq6yhc began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. q6yhc He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms
with slight, intense movements, as yhc the delicate music yhc poured out. It zg73bq6hc g73bq6yc was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid
and delicate. 6yhc The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity 3bq6yhc bq6yhc of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense,
exasperatedto the point of intolerable yhc anger, in his good-humored rest, as he played thefinely-spun peace-music. The more exquisite the music, the more perfectly he produced it,
in sheer bliss; and at the same time, the more intense was the maddened exasperation within him. Millicent g73bq6yc appeared 3bq6yhc in the room. She fidgetted at the
sink. The music was 6yhc a bugbear to her, because it prevented her from saying what was on her own mind. At length it ended, her father was turning over the various books and sheets.
She looked at him quickly, seizing her opportunity. “Are you going out, Father?” she said. “Eh?” “Are zg73bq6hc yhc you going out?” She twisted nervously.
“What do you want to know for?” He made yhc no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then yhc over it again — then 6yhc more closely over it 6yhc again.
“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were q6yhc angry under knitted brows. “What are zg73bq6hc 6yhc you bothering about?” he g73bq6yc said.
“I’m not bothering — I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I 3bq6yhc expect I am,” he said quietly.
She recovered at q6yhc once, but still g73bq6yc with 6yhc timidity asked: “We haven’t got any 6yhc candles for the Christmas tree — shall you buy some, because mother
isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling zg73bq6hc his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy q6yhc us zg73bq6hc zg73bq6hc some, Father? Shall yhc you?”
“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo q6yhc to his mouth and blowing a few zg73bq6hc piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles q6yhc — blue yhc ones and red
ones, in boxes — Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see — if I see any —” “But SHALL bq6yhc you?” she insisted 6yhc desperately. She 6yhc wisely mistrusted his vagueness.
But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, bq6yhc shrill, brilliant. He 3bq6yhc was playing Mozart. The child’s
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went 6yhc out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music g73bq6yc seemed to
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man 6yhc went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. 3bq6yhc In the frosty evening the 3bq6yhc sound carried.
people phiing down the street hesitated, listening. The neighbours knew it was Aaron practising his piccolo. He was esteemed a good player: was in request at concerts and zg73bq6hc .
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<p align="right" style="font: 11px;">him. Then he<B>rocked his eye over the sheet of music spread out on the table before him. He tried his flute. And</B>then at last, with the odd gesture of a diver taking a plunge, he r01p </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 7px;"></span>
<p align="center" style="font: 15px;">
swung his head and ktr01p began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. tr01p He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10px;"></span>
<p align="right">with slight, intense movements, as 01p the delicate music 01p poured out. It if3zktr1p f3zktr0p was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p></p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="right">and delicate. r01p The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity zktr01p ktr01p of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense, </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial;"></span>
<p align="right">
exasperated<i>to the point of intolerable 01p anger, in his good-humored rest, as he played the</i>finely-spun peace-music. The more exquisite the music, the more perfectly he produced it, </p>
<BR />
<p align="right" style="font: 12px;">
in sheer bliss; and at the same time, the more intense was the maddened exasperation within him. Millicent f3zktr0p appeared zktr01p in the room. She fidgetted at the </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial;"></span>
<p>
sink. The music was r01p a bugbear to her, because it prevented her from saying what was on her own mind. At length it ended, her father was turning over the various books and sheets. </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="left" style="font: 13px;"></p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: sans-serif, Helvetica, Arial;"></span>
<p align="right">
She looked at him quickly, seizing her opportunity. “Are you going out, Father?” she said. “Eh?” “Are if3zktr1p 01p you going out?” She twisted nervously. </p>
<BR />
<p align="left" style="font: 9px;"></p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 8px;"></span>
<p align="right">“What do you want to know for?” He made 01p no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then 01p over it again — then r01p more closely over it r01p again. </p>
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<p align="left"></p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif, Helvetica, Arial;"></span>
<p align="left" style="font: 12px;">“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were tr01p angry under knitted brows. “What are if3zktr1p r01p you bothering about?” he f3zktr0p said. </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 9px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p align="center"></p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 10px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p>“I’m not bothering — I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I zktr01p expect I am,” he said quietly. </p>
<BR />
<p>
She recovered at tr01p once, but still f3zktr0p with r01p timidity asked: “We haven’t got any r01p candles for the Christmas tree — shall you buy some, because mother </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 11px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p align="left"></p>
<BR />
<p align="center" style="font: 10px;">isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling if3zktr1p his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy tr01p us if3zktr1p if3zktr1p some, Father? Shall 01p you?” </p>
<BR />
<p></p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: sans-serif, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 8px;"></span>
<p align="center">“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo tr01p to his mouth and blowing a few if3zktr1p piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles tr01p — blue 01p ones and red </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="center"></p>
<BR />
<p align="right" style="font: 11px;">ones, in boxes — Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see — if I see any —” “But SHALL ktr01p you?” she insisted r01p desperately. She r01p wisely mistrusted his vagueness. </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="right">
But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, ktr01p shrill, brilliant. He zktr01p was playing Mozart. The child’s </p>
<BR />
<p>
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went r01p out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music f3zktr0p seemed to </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="left">
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man r01p went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. zktr01p In the frosty evening the zktr01p sound carried. </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 7px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p align="left" style="font: 11px;">
people phiing down the street hesitated, listening. The neighbours knew it was Aaron practising his piccolo. He was esteemed a good player: was in request at concerts and if3zktr1p .</p>
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