Post by account_disabled on Dec 12, 2023 1:45:13 GMT -5
Letters from Birmingham Birmingham, 30 June 1892 Dear Master, It's raining frogs here. As you can imagine, this caused quite a stir, but you won't be surprised. When the event happened, I was walking in Mosley, a suburb of the city. The morning was sunny and the sky was almost free of clouds, but at a certain point hundreds of frogs started raining from the sky, crashing onto the road. What a show! Not all of them died and some began to jump here and there, scaring the ladies and causing the children to laugh. I picked one up and now I have it here with me, in a jar with some water.
She is not hurt, she is fine and I observe Phone Number Data her to understand where she is coming from, but so far no response. I'll keep you updated. Your, C.H.F. *** Birmingham, 12 July 1892 Dear Master, I received your letter and I am really happy to know that you will come to visit me. Here the days are quite monotonous, the phalanstery is a dark, disturbing structure, the other inmates are not the best company for a conversation. Discussing with you the mysteries of humanity and the world will be a diversion that I will welcome with enthusiasm. The frog is still alive, although an attendant ordered me several times to throw it into the pond. She is a woman who hates all animals except her unpleasant cat.
Before freeing the frog I want to be able to understand what is hidden in its silence. “A frog can't talk, Charles,” one of the Areopagus, Mr. Miller, told me. “It's only because we don't know his language,” I replied. But I don't think he understood, from the look he made. Your, C.H.F. The Conservatory of the Improbable «Who are you, Master?» On a morning in July 1892, under the gaze of the phalanstery, the two were walking in the countryside in front of the austere building. All around, the internees – as they were called by Charles, that is, the members of the production consortium – came and went for various tasks. “I'm just a scholar, Charles.” "I would like to become like you." «Do you want to become an alchemist?» "Why not?" They reached the pond. The water was dark, with moss green reflections. Charles crouched on the bank and opened the jar, spilling it. The frog, perplexed, stood still for a few minutes. “He doesn't want to go out,” the boy said.
She is not hurt, she is fine and I observe Phone Number Data her to understand where she is coming from, but so far no response. I'll keep you updated. Your, C.H.F. *** Birmingham, 12 July 1892 Dear Master, I received your letter and I am really happy to know that you will come to visit me. Here the days are quite monotonous, the phalanstery is a dark, disturbing structure, the other inmates are not the best company for a conversation. Discussing with you the mysteries of humanity and the world will be a diversion that I will welcome with enthusiasm. The frog is still alive, although an attendant ordered me several times to throw it into the pond. She is a woman who hates all animals except her unpleasant cat.
Before freeing the frog I want to be able to understand what is hidden in its silence. “A frog can't talk, Charles,” one of the Areopagus, Mr. Miller, told me. “It's only because we don't know his language,” I replied. But I don't think he understood, from the look he made. Your, C.H.F. The Conservatory of the Improbable «Who are you, Master?» On a morning in July 1892, under the gaze of the phalanstery, the two were walking in the countryside in front of the austere building. All around, the internees – as they were called by Charles, that is, the members of the production consortium – came and went for various tasks. “I'm just a scholar, Charles.” "I would like to become like you." «Do you want to become an alchemist?» "Why not?" They reached the pond. The water was dark, with moss green reflections. Charles crouched on the bank and opened the jar, spilling it. The frog, perplexed, stood still for a few minutes. “He doesn't want to go out,” the boy said.
AAAHHHH hehe ok I should go to sleep now