[93076] in Discussion of MIT-community interests
Elder Care Communities Near You
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Caringforaparent.com)
Thu Dec 1 06:26:18 2016
Date: Thu, 1 Dec 2016 06:26:16 -0500
To: mit-talk-mtg@charon.mit.edu
From: "Caringforaparent.com" <caringforaparentcom@parecar.bid>
Reply-to: "Caringforaparent.com" <caringforaparentcom@parecar.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 dx9f
swung his head and 2tdx9f began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. tdx9f He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms
with slight, intense movements, as x9f the delicate music x9f poured out. It o3hv2td9f 3hv2tdxf was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid
and delicate. dx9f The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity v2tdx9f 2tdx9f of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense,
exasperatedto the point of intolerable x9f 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 3hv2tdxf appeared v2tdx9f in the room. She fidgetted at the
sink. The music was dx9f 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 o3hv2td9f x9f you going out?” She twisted nervously.
“What do you want to know for?” He made x9f no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then x9f over it again — then dx9f more closely over it dx9f again.
“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were tdx9f angry under knitted brows. “What are o3hv2td9f dx9f you bothering about?” he 3hv2tdxf said.
“I’m not bothering — I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I v2tdx9f expect I am,” he said quietly.
She recovered at tdx9f once, but still 3hv2tdxf with dx9f timidity asked: “We haven’t got any dx9f candles for the Christmas tree — shall you buy some, because mother
isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling o3hv2td9f his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy tdx9f us o3hv2td9f o3hv2td9f some, Father? Shall x9f you?”
“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo tdx9f to his mouth and blowing a few o3hv2td9f piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles tdx9f — blue x9f ones and red
ones, in boxes — Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see — if I see any —” “But SHALL 2tdx9f you?” she insisted dx9f desperately. She dx9f wisely mistrusted his vagueness.
But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, 2tdx9f shrill, brilliant. He v2tdx9f was playing Mozart. The child’s
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went dx9f out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music 3hv2tdxf seemed to
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man dx9f went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. v2tdx9f In the frosty evening the v2tdx9f 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 o3hv2td9f .
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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 3y4q </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 7px;"></span>
<p align="center" style="font: 15px;">
swung his head and ic3y4q began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. c3y4q 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 y4q the delicate music y4q poured out. It m0weic34q 0weic3yq was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid </p>
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<p></p>
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<p align="right">and delicate. 3y4q The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity eic3y4q ic3y4q 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 y4q 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 0weic3yq appeared eic3y4q 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 3y4q 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>
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<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 m0weic34q y4q you going out?” She twisted nervously. </p>
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<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 y4q no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then y4q over it again — then 3y4q more closely over it 3y4q again. </p>
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<p align="left" style="font: 12px;">“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were c3y4q angry under knitted brows. “What are m0weic34q 3y4q you bothering about?” he 0weic3yq said. </p>
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<p>“I’m not bothering — I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I eic3y4q expect I am,” he said quietly. </p>
<BR />
<p>
She recovered at c3y4q once, but still 0weic3yq with 3y4q timidity asked: “We haven’t got any 3y4q 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 m0weic34q his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy c3y4q us m0weic34q m0weic34q some, Father? Shall y4q 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 c3y4q to his mouth and blowing a few m0weic34q piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles c3y4q — blue y4q 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 ic3y4q you?” she insisted 3y4q desperately. She 3y4q 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, ic3y4q shrill, brilliant. He eic3y4q was playing Mozart. The child’s </p>
<BR />
<p>
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went 3y4q out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music 0weic3yq seemed to </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="left">
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man 3y4q went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. eic3y4q In the frosty evening the eic3y4q 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 m0weic34q .</p>
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