[92737] in Discussion of MIT-community interests
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daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Caringforaparent.com)
Sat Nov 26 05:13:17 2016
Date: Sat, 26 Nov 2016 05:13:25 -0500
To: mit-talk-mtg@charon.mit.edu
From: "Caringforaparent.com" <caringforaparentcom@carrpa.bid>
Reply-to: "Caringforaparent.com" <caringforaparentcom@carrpa.bid>
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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 1gxk
swung his head and 8p1gxk began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. p1gxk He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms
with slight, intense movements, as gxk the delicate music gxk poured out. It 4a9q8p1xk a9q8p1gk was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid
and delicate. 1gxk The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity q8p1gxk 8p1gxk of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense,
exasperatedto the point of intolerable gxk 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 a9q8p1gk appeared q8p1gxk in the room. She fidgetted at the
sink. The music was 1gxk 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 4a9q8p1xk gxk you going out?” She twisted nervously.
“What do you want to know for?” He made gxk no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then gxk over it again — then 1gxk more closely over it 1gxk again.
“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were p1gxk angry under knitted brows. “What are 4a9q8p1xk 1gxk you bothering about?” he a9q8p1gk said.
“I’m not bothering — I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I q8p1gxk expect I am,” he said quietly.
She recovered at p1gxk once, but still a9q8p1gk with 1gxk timidity asked: “We haven’t got any 1gxk candles for the Christmas tree — shall you buy some, because mother
isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling 4a9q8p1xk his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy p1gxk us 4a9q8p1xk 4a9q8p1xk some, Father? Shall gxk you?”
“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo p1gxk to his mouth and blowing a few 4a9q8p1xk piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles p1gxk — blue gxk ones and red
ones, in boxes — Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see — if I see any —” “But SHALL 8p1gxk you?” she insisted 1gxk desperately. She 1gxk wisely mistrusted his vagueness.
But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, 8p1gxk shrill, brilliant. He q8p1gxk was playing Mozart. The child’s
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went 1gxk out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music a9q8p1gk seemed to
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man 1gxk went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. q8p1gxk In the frosty evening the q8p1gxk 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 4a9q8p1xk .
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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 dk85 </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 7px;"></span>
<p align="center" style="font: 15px;">
swung his head and tqdk85 began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. qdk85 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 k85 the delicate music k85 poured out. It brh9tqd85 rh9tqdk5 was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p></p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="right">and delicate. dk85 The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity 9tqdk85 tqdk85 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 k85 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 rh9tqdk5 appeared 9tqdk85 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 dk85 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 brh9tqd85 k85 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 k85 no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then k85 over it again — then dk85 more closely over it dk85 again. </p>
<BR /><BR />
<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 qdk85 angry under knitted brows. “What are brh9tqd85 dk85 you bothering about?” he rh9tqdk5 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 9tqdk85 expect I am,” he said quietly. </p>
<BR />
<p>
She recovered at qdk85 once, but still rh9tqdk5 with dk85 timidity asked: “We haven’t got any dk85 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 brh9tqd85 his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy qdk85 us brh9tqd85 brh9tqd85 some, Father? Shall k85 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 qdk85 to his mouth and blowing a few brh9tqd85 piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles qdk85 — blue k85 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 tqdk85 you?” she insisted dk85 desperately. She dk85 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, tqdk85 shrill, brilliant. He 9tqdk85 was playing Mozart. The child’s </p>
<BR />
<p>
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went dk85 out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music rh9tqdk5 seemed to </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="left">
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man dk85 went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. 9tqdk85 In the frosty evening the 9tqdk85 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 brh9tqd85 .</p>
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