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Sunday, Sep 16, 2001

northern skies

"Aye we have found him, the fair young face
Turned to the pitiless Afghan skies
The frost bound earth for a resting place
Dead--with the horror of death in his eyes."

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lost horizon


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OZYMANDIAS


I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said, Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert...Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lips and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandius, king of kings.
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair."
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.


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sign on


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bin there


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Saturday, Sep 15, 2001

back it up


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kernal quagmire


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