last-bastion.html


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
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59

<!DOCTYPE html>
<!-- Template for compiled 'Autocento' documents -->
<html lang="en">
<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>Last bastion | Autocento of the breakfast table</title>
    <!-- general styles & scripts -->
    <link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="./css/common.css">
    <script src="./js/lozenge.js" type="text/javascript"> </script>
    <script src="./js/hylo.js" type="text/javascript"> </script>

        <link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="./css/verse.css">
    <script src="./js/verse.js" type="text/javascript"> </script>
            <link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="./css/stark.css">
    <script src="./js/stark.js" type="text/javascript"> </script>
        <!--[if lt IE 9]>
    <script src="http://html5shim.googlecode.com/svn/trunk/html5.js"> </script>
    <![endif]-->
    <!-- <script src="js/external.js"> </script> -->
    </head>
<body>

<div id="wrapper">
    <header>
        <!-- title -->
        <h1 class="title">Last bastion</h1>
        

        
            </header>

    <section class="thing verse">
    <p>Dimly remembered celebrity chefs shuffle<br />down the cold and darkened highways of the heart.<br />They are the last personality left. They are <a href="http://biblehub.com/matthew/5-5.htm">the meek<br />who inherited the heart</a>, what was left of it.<br /> Without food to cook in new or exciting ways<br />nor audience to gasp and cackle, the chefs<br />of the heart quietly waste away while staring<br />doe-eyed into now-empty Safeway windows<br />checking under the dusty produce shelves<br />for something they pray the <a href="in-bed.html">rats</a> haven’t found yet.</p>
    <p>Years ago, the economy of the heart boomed<br />and there was food everywhere. Produce<br />piled high in pyramids of devotion, meat in<br />gilded glass cases opulent under fluorescence,<br />dairy which ran like the <a href="music-433.html">mythical river</a> toward<br />cereals hot and cold. Under it all, thrumming<br />like great stone wheels on sand under a hot sun<br />near a river where reeds sang in the wind<br />the heart produced and gave reward for hard labor.</p>
    <p>No one knows when it all ended. No one can say<br />if it was the heart that dried up or the heart’s supply.<br />Either way, food of the heart became scarcer and scarcer.<br />People began dying, not of starvation<br />but of a certain facial expression that could only<br />be described as desperation. Now<br />all that are left are the celebrity chefs, last bastion<br />of a once mighty empire of the <a href="sense-of-it.html">heart<br />are reduced to husks</a> blown dry by wind.</p>
    </section>

    <nav>
                <a class="prevlink" href="sixteenth-chapel.txt.html">
            The Sixteenth Chapel
        </a>
                <a class="prevlink" href="boy_bus.html">
            Boy on the bus
        </a>
                <a href="#" id="lozenge" title="Random page"> &loz; </a>
                <a class="nextlink" href="amber-alert.html">
            AMBER alert
        </a>
                <a class="nextlink" href="initial-conditions.html">
            Initial conditions
        </a>
            </nav>
</div>
</body>
</html>