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1 files changed, 16 insertions, 17 deletions
diff --git a/leaf.html b/leaf.html index cd49feb..83353b7 100644 --- a/leaf.html +++ b/leaf.html
@@ -1,5 +1,6 @@
1<!DOCTYPE html> 1<!DOCTYPE html>
2<!-- Template for compiled 'Autocento' documents --> 2<!-- AUTOCENTO OF THE BREAKFAST TABLE -->
3<!-- vim: fdm=indent -->
3<html lang="en"> 4<html lang="en">
4<head> 5<head>
5 <meta charset="utf-8"> 6 <meta charset="utf-8">
@@ -23,23 +24,21 @@
23 <!-- <script src="js/external.js"> </script> --> 24 <!-- <script src="js/external.js"> </script> -->
24 </head> 25 </head>
25<body> 26<body>
27
28 <article id="container">
29 <header>
30 <!-- title -->
31 <h1 class="title">Leaf</h1>
32
26 33
27<article id="container"> 34 </header>
28 <header>
29 <!-- title -->
30 <h1 class="title">Leaf</h1>
31
32
33
34 </header>
35
36 <section class="content prose">
37 <p>He shrugged the wood off his shoulder, letting it fall with a clog onto the earth floor of his Writing Shack. He exhaled looking out of the window. He hoped to see a bird fly by, maybe a blue jay or raven. <a href="last-passenger.html">No bird did</a>. He inhaled. He exhaled again in a way that could <a href="last-bastion.html">only be classified</a> as a sigh. He sat down at his writing desk. He began shuffling through what he’d written, trying to find some sort of pattern.</p>
38 <p>“<em>Each piece of paper—each leaf—</em>” at this he smiled—“<em>is like a tree in the forest.</em>” He was writing as he thought aloud. “<em>I, as the artist, as the <strong>writer</strong>, must select which to use, chop down those trees, bring them back to my shed and</em>—and—” he frowned as he realized the only end to this <a href="the-night-we-met.html">metaphor was fire</a>. He ran his fingers through his hair in a self-soothing gesture.</p>
39 <p>“I need to build some furniture” he thought.</p>
40 </section>
41</article>
42 35
36 <section class="content prose">
37 <p>He shrugged the wood off his shoulder, letting it fall with a clog onto the earth floor of his Writing Shack. He exhaled looking out of the window. He hoped to see a bird fly by, maybe a blue jay or raven. <a href="last-passenger.html">No bird did</a>. He inhaled. He exhaled again in a way that could <a href="last-bastion.html">only be classified</a> as a sigh. He sat down at his writing desk. He began shuffling through what he’d written, trying to find some sort of pattern.</p>
38 <p>“<em>Each piece of paper—each leaf—</em>” at this he smiled—“<em>is like a tree in the forest.</em>” He was writing as he thought aloud. “<em>I, as the artist, as the <strong>writer</strong>, must select which to use, chop down those trees, bring them back to my shed and</em>—and—” he frowned as he realized the only end to this <a href="the-night-we-met.html">metaphor was fire</a>. He ran his fingers through his hair in a self-soothing gesture.</p>
39 <p>“I need to build some furniture” he thought.</p>
40 </section>
41 </article>
43 <nav> 42 <nav>
44 <a class="prevlink" href="axe.html" 43 <a class="prevlink" href="axe.html"
45 title="Next article in Buildings out of air: Paul in the Woods"> 44 title="Next article in Buildings out of air: Paul in the Woods">
@@ -59,5 +58,5 @@
59 Leg 58 Leg
60 </a> 59 </a>
61 </nav> 60 </nav>
62</body> 61 </body>
63</html> 62</html>