From 08fd8e95dccb91d0495a50d1009f85cb80cfad65 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Case Duckworth Date: Tue, 14 Apr 2015 18:09:55 -0700 Subject: First compile in v1.0.0 --- hands.html | 75 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 1 file changed, 75 insertions(+) create mode 100644 hands.html (limited to 'hands.html') diff --git a/hands.html b/hands.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..92c70e4 --- /dev/null +++ b/hands.html @@ -0,0 +1,75 @@ + + + + + + + + + + +Hands | Autocento of the breakfast table + + + + + + + + + + +
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Hands

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He looked down at his hands idly while he was typing. They were dry and cracked in places. He thought he might start bleeding so he went inside for some lotion.

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“Do we have any lotion” he asked his mother. “In the medicine cabinet” she said without looking up from the TV. He walked into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. “I look strange” he said to himself “I look like a teenager.” He stared into his right eye, then his left. He saw nothing but his own reflection fish-eyed in his pupils. He opened the medicine cabinet.

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Back in his Writing Shack, he started to type.

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What is it about hands that gives them such power? It is that their power is hidden in the arm. Push on the inside of the wrist–the hand closes. Reach under the skin and pull on the outside tendons– the hand opens again. Hands are only machines for grasping, controlled by the arm, not the mind.

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