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Homer's (the blind man's) poetry as seen by the waiter "Iliad I"
starting the day... ...grumpy he rolled, swinging one leg first out of bed, into this pretty day. He had worked late. A dry mouth's thirst much longing for brewed coffee. Just like play he flicked, sleeping Sophia's On-switch. Annoyed he viewed, coffee sipping his challenge, a spreadsheet, what a bitch. Sophia, was up waiting, silently ticking, He got nothing beyond the black screen, despite flipping the workstation On & Off, until a C: (see-colon) sent by deus-de-machina, was seen as a guiding prompt to Windows and past the sill. So he thought. Such he expected from her, his higher-powered goddess. "Now what?" did he ask, feverishly searching WIN's directory's tree. This displaying of DOS's dir turned into a giant task what Sophia took some years ago, the basic gw-programming language, he once had thought gone, reappeared from nowhere, crazy as subdir winwg, much like a cat having nine lives deltree-winwg still existed. How wrong, that he thought he had razed it.
[-:
07/06/08
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