blob: bf1ad4b8188da2f00985564f28d85bc1fed184c9 (
plain)
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
|
<!DOCTYPE html>
<!-- Template for compiled 'Autocento' documents -->
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="utf-8">
<meta name="generator" content="pandoc">
<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0, user-scalable=yes">
<meta name="author" content="Case Duckworth">
<!-- more meta tags here -->
<title>Hands | Autocento of the breakfast table</title>
<link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="_common.css">
<link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="_prose.css">
<link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="_paul.css">
<!--[if lt IE 9]>
<script src="http://html5shim.googlecode.com/svn/trunk/html5.js"> </script>
<![endif]-->
</head>
<body>
<header>
<!-- title -->
<h1 class="title">Hands</h1>
</header>
<section class="prose">
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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.</p>
<p>Back in his Writing Shack, he started to type.</p>
<pre class="type"><code>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.</code></pre>
</section>
<nav>
<a href="toilet.html">Toilet ></a>
<a href="hardware.html">Hardware ></a>
</nav>
</body>
</html>
|