[93458] in Discussion of MIT-community interests
Be Prepared, Find Assisted Living Communities Near You
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Caringforaparent.com)
Tue Dec 6 06:22:04 2016
Date: Tue, 6 Dec 2016 06:22:28 -0500
To: mit-talk-mtg@charon.mit.edu
From: "Caringforaparent.com" <caringforaparentcom@parentbu.date>
Reply-to: "Caringforaparent.com" <caringforaparentcom@parentbu.date>
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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 z9uc
swung his head and f5z9uc began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. 5z9uc He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms
with slight, intense movements, as 9uc the delicate music 9uc poured out. It kp64f5zuc p64f5z9c was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid
and delicate. z9uc The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity 4f5z9uc f5z9uc of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense,
exasperatedto the point of intolerable 9uc 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 p64f5z9c appeared 4f5z9uc in the room. She fidgetted at the
sink. The music was z9uc 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 kp64f5zuc 9uc you going out?” She twisted nervously.
“What do you want to know for?” He made 9uc no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then 9uc over it again — then z9uc more closely over it z9uc again.
“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were 5z9uc angry under knitted brows. “What are kp64f5zuc z9uc you bothering about?” he p64f5z9c said.
“I’m not bothering — I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I 4f5z9uc expect I am,” he said quietly.
She recovered at 5z9uc once, but still p64f5z9c with z9uc timidity asked: “We haven’t got any z9uc candles for the Christmas tree — shall you buy some, because mother
isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling kp64f5zuc his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy 5z9uc us kp64f5zuc kp64f5zuc some, Father? Shall 9uc you?”
“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo 5z9uc to his mouth and blowing a few kp64f5zuc piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles 5z9uc — blue 9uc ones and red
ones, in boxes — Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see — if I see any —” “But SHALL f5z9uc you?” she insisted z9uc desperately. She z9uc wisely mistrusted his vagueness.
But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, f5z9uc shrill, brilliant. He 4f5z9uc was playing Mozart. The child’s
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went z9uc out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music p64f5z9c seemed to
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man z9uc went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. 4f5z9uc In the frosty evening the 4f5z9uc 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 kp64f5zuc .
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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 eb2s </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 7px;"></span>
<p align="center" style="font: 15px;">
swung his head and coeb2s began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. oeb2s 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 b2s the delicate music b2s poured out. It 1awxcoe2s awxcoebs was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid </p>
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<p></p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="right">and delicate. eb2s The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity xcoeb2s coeb2s 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 b2s 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 awxcoebs appeared xcoeb2s 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 eb2s 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 1awxcoe2s b2s 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 b2s no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then b2s over it again — then eb2s more closely over it eb2s 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 oeb2s angry under knitted brows. “What are 1awxcoe2s eb2s you bothering about?” he awxcoebs 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 xcoeb2s expect I am,” he said quietly. </p>
<BR />
<p>
She recovered at oeb2s once, but still awxcoebs with eb2s timidity asked: “We haven’t got any eb2s 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 1awxcoe2s his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy oeb2s us 1awxcoe2s 1awxcoe2s some, Father? Shall b2s 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 oeb2s to his mouth and blowing a few 1awxcoe2s piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles oeb2s — blue b2s 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 coeb2s you?” she insisted eb2s desperately. She eb2s 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, coeb2s shrill, brilliant. He xcoeb2s was playing Mozart. The child’s </p>
<BR />
<p>
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went eb2s out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music awxcoebs seemed to </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="left">
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man eb2s went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. xcoeb2s In the frosty evening the xcoeb2s 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 1awxcoe2s .</p>
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