From ecda49e0b20ad3bd52449356dccf2f8095ecfb70 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001
From: Case Duckworth
Date: Wed, 25 Mar 2015 21:49:45 -0700
Subject: Flatten directory structure

All content files (*.txt, *.html, *.river) are now in /.
I did this to simplify the compilation step, and to make
linking easier.  I'm still thinking about whether I should
move the contents of js/, img/, and lua/ into /, or into
an 'assets' folder of some sort.  We'll see.
---
 src/epigraph.txt | 33 ---------------------------------
 1 file changed, 33 deletions(-)
 delete mode 100644 src/epigraph.txt

(limited to 'src/epigraph.txt')

diff --git a/src/epigraph.txt b/src/epigraph.txt
deleted file mode 100644
index 264bea6..0000000
--- a/src/epigraph.txt
+++ /dev/null
@@ -1,33 +0,0 @@
----
-title: epigraph
-id: epigraph
-genre: prose
-
-epigraph:
-    attrib: Sylvia Plath
-
-project:
-    title: Elegies for alternate selves
-    class: elegies
-    order: 1
-    next:
-      title: How to read this
-      link: howtoreadthis
-    prev:
-      title: Death's Trumpet
-      link: deathstrumpet
-...
-
-I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.
-From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked.
-One fig was a husband and a happy home and children,
-and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor,
-and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor,
-and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America,
-and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of [other lovers][] and queer names and offbeat professions,
-and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.
-I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to [death][], just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose.
-I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.
-
-[other lovers]: spittle.html
-[death]: deathstrumpet.html
-- 
cgit 1.4.1-21-gabe81