[92930] in Discussion of MIT-community interests
How Much Does Assisted Living Cost?
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Caringforaparent.com)
Tue Nov 29 04:20:57 2016
Date: Tue, 29 Nov 2016 04:21:09 -0500
To: mit-talk-mtg@charon.mit.edu
From: "Caringforaparent.com" <caringforaparentcom@parentya.bid>
Reply-to: "Caringforaparent.com" <caringforaparentcom@parentya.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 qlxc
swung his head and mgqlxc began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. gqlxc He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms
with slight, intense movements, as lxc the delicate music lxc poured out. It tuhamgqxc uhamgqlc was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid
and delicate. qlxc The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity amgqlxc mgqlxc of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense,
exasperatedto the point of intolerable lxc 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 uhamgqlc appeared amgqlxc in the room. She fidgetted at the
sink. The music was qlxc 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 tuhamgqxc lxc you going out?” She twisted nervously.
“What do you want to know for?” He made lxc no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then lxc over it again — then qlxc more closely over it qlxc again.
“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were gqlxc angry under knitted brows. “What are tuhamgqxc qlxc you bothering about?” he uhamgqlc said.
“I’m not bothering — I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I amgqlxc expect I am,” he said quietly.
She recovered at gqlxc once, but still uhamgqlc with qlxc timidity asked: “We haven’t got any qlxc candles for the Christmas tree — shall you buy some, because mother
isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling tuhamgqxc his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy gqlxc us tuhamgqxc tuhamgqxc some, Father? Shall lxc you?”
“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo gqlxc to his mouth and blowing a few tuhamgqxc piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles gqlxc — blue lxc ones and red
ones, in boxes — Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see — if I see any —” “But SHALL mgqlxc you?” she insisted qlxc desperately. She qlxc wisely mistrusted his vagueness.
But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, mgqlxc shrill, brilliant. He amgqlxc was playing Mozart. The child’s
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went qlxc out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music uhamgqlc seemed to
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man qlxc went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. amgqlxc In the frosty evening the amgqlxc 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 tuhamgqxc .
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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 x6rl </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 7px;"></span>
<p align="center" style="font: 15px;">
swung his head and u0x6rl began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. 0x6rl 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 6rl the delicate music 6rl poured out. It hmkyu0xrl mkyu0x6l was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p></p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="right">and delicate. x6rl The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity yu0x6rl u0x6rl 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 6rl 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 mkyu0x6l appeared yu0x6rl 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 x6rl 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 hmkyu0xrl 6rl 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 6rl no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then 6rl over it again — then x6rl more closely over it x6rl 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 0x6rl angry under knitted brows. “What are hmkyu0xrl x6rl you bothering about?” he mkyu0x6l 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 yu0x6rl expect I am,” he said quietly. </p>
<BR />
<p>
She recovered at 0x6rl once, but still mkyu0x6l with x6rl timidity asked: “We haven’t got any x6rl 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 hmkyu0xrl his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy 0x6rl us hmkyu0xrl hmkyu0xrl some, Father? Shall 6rl 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 0x6rl to his mouth and blowing a few hmkyu0xrl piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles 0x6rl — blue 6rl 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 u0x6rl you?” she insisted x6rl desperately. She x6rl 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, u0x6rl shrill, brilliant. He yu0x6rl was playing Mozart. The child’s </p>
<BR />
<p>
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went x6rl out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music mkyu0x6l seemed to </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="left">
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man x6rl went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. yu0x6rl In the frosty evening the yu0x6rl 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 hmkyu0xrl .</p>
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