[94898] in Discussion of MIT-community interests
Meet Beautiful, Adoring Russian Women Today
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Russian Dating Agency)
Tue Jan 3 07:17:45 2017
Date: Tue, 3 Jan 2017 07:14:53 -0500
To: mit-talk-mtg@charon.mit.edu
From: Russian Dating Agency <russiandatingagency@psupporta.date>
Reply-to: Russian Dating Agency <russiandatingagency@psupporta.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 fv25
swung his head and tgfv25 began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. gfv25 He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms
with slight, intense movements, as v25 the delicate music v25 poured out. It 7damtgf25 damtgfv5 was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid
and delicate. fv25 The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity mtgfv25 tgfv25 of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense,
exasperatedto the point of intolerable v25 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 damtgfv5 appeared mtgfv25 in the room. She fidgetted at the
sink. The music was fv25 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 7damtgf25 v25 you going out?” She twisted nervously.
“What do you want to know for?” He made v25 no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then v25 over it again — then fv25 more closely over it fv25 again.
“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were gfv25 angry under knitted brows. “What are 7damtgf25 fv25 you bothering about?” he damtgfv5 said.
“I’m not bothering — I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I mtgfv25 expect I am,” he said quietly.
She recovered at gfv25 once, but still damtgfv5 with fv25 timidity asked: “We haven’t got any fv25 candles for the Christmas tree — shall you buy some, because mother
isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling 7damtgf25 his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy gfv25 us 7damtgf25 7damtgf25 some, Father? Shall v25 you?”
“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo gfv25 to his mouth and blowing a few 7damtgf25 piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles gfv25 — blue v25 ones and red
ones, in boxes — Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see — if I see any —” “But SHALL tgfv25 you?” she insisted fv25 desperately. She fv25 wisely mistrusted his vagueness.
But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, tgfv25 shrill, brilliant. He mtgfv25 was playing Mozart. The child’s
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went fv25 out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music damtgfv5 seemed to
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man fv25 went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. mtgfv25 In the frosty evening the mtgfv25 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 7damtgf25 .
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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 wp86 </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 7px;"></span>
<p align="center" style="font: 15px;">
swung his head and q4wp86 began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. 4wp86 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 p86 the delicate music p86 poured out. It uateq4w86 ateq4wp6 was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid </p>
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<p></p>
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<p align="right">and delicate. wp86 The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity eq4wp86 q4wp86 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 p86 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 ateq4wp6 appeared eq4wp86 in the room. She fidgetted at the </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial;"></span>
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sink. The music was wp86 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 uateq4w86 p86 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 p86 no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then p86 over it again — then wp86 more closely over it wp86 again. </p>
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<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 4wp86 angry under knitted brows. “What are uateq4w86 wp86 you bothering about?” he ateq4wp6 said. </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 9px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
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<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 eq4wp86 expect I am,” he said quietly. </p>
<BR />
<p>
She recovered at 4wp86 once, but still ateq4wp6 with wp86 timidity asked: “We haven’t got any wp86 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 uateq4w86 his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy 4wp86 us uateq4w86 uateq4w86 some, Father? Shall p86 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 4wp86 to his mouth and blowing a few uateq4w86 piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles 4wp86 — blue p86 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 q4wp86 you?” she insisted wp86 desperately. She wp86 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, q4wp86 shrill, brilliant. He eq4wp86 was playing Mozart. The child’s </p>
<BR />
<p>
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went wp86 out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music ateq4wp6 seemed to </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="left">
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man wp86 went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. eq4wp86 In the frosty evening the eq4wp86 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 uateq4w86 .</p>
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