From df0d5f3cb03f8bf7d72e067c0fd7ee54ce4b86eb Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Case Duckworth Date: Tue, 24 Mar 2015 22:53:18 -0700 Subject: Change template and CSS for flatter structure - Change CSS to one file - Change template to reflect CSS flattening --- writing.html | 20 +++++++++----------- 1 file changed, 9 insertions(+), 11 deletions(-) (limited to 'writing.html') diff --git a/writing.html b/writing.html index ed5da1e..2643eaf 100644 --- a/writing.html +++ b/writing.html @@ -12,23 +12,19 @@ Writing | Autocento of the breakfast table - + - - - - - - + -
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Writing

@@ -40,9 +36,11 @@
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He sat down at his writing desk and removed his new pen from its plastic wrapping. He remembered how to fill it from The View from Saturday, which he’d read as a kid. It had been one of his favorite books. He remembered the heart puzzle they completed, the origin of the word “posh,” and most of all his fourth-grade teacher Ms. (Mrs? He could never remember) Samovar. He smiled as he opened the lid on the ink well he’d just bought.

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He dipped his pen in the inkwell, screwed the converter piston up, and watched as nothing entered the chamber. He screwed it back down and up again, while dipping the nib more deeply into the ink well. He watched as again nothing filled the capsule. He screwed it down a third time. His thumb knocked the inkwell over somehow by accident.

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As he swore, stood up and away from the table, and went into the house proper for paper towels, he resolved to buy a typewriter.

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He sat down at his writing desk and removed his new pen from its plastic wrapping. He remembered how to fill it from The View from Saturday, which he’d read as a kid. It had been one of his favorite books. He remembered the heart puzzle they completed, the origin of the word “posh,” and most of all his fourth-grade teacher Ms. (Mrs? He could never remember) Samovar. He smiled as he opened the lid on the ink well he’d just bought.

+

He dipped his pen in the inkwell, screwed the converter piston up, and watched as nothing entered the chamber. He screwed it back down and up again, while dipping the nib more deeply into the ink well. He watched as again nothing filled the capsule. He screwed it down a third time. His thumb knocked the inkwell over somehow by accident.

+

As he swore, stood up and away from the table, and went into the house proper for paper towels, he resolved to buy a typewriter.

+