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186 Berichten
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Female
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01/02/1969
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Actueel
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The Weight of an Empty RoomThe first photograph I took of Gregory was not really a photograph at all. It was a record of an absence. I had pointed my camera at his study at MIT — Building 4, room 127, the one with the broad window that looked out over the grey, churning waters of the Charles River — and I had pressed the shutter. The flash went off, a brief, blinding white strobe that momentarily stripped the room of its...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 3 Views 0 voorbeeldPlease log in to like, share and comment!
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THE PARANOIA ENGINEDr. Henry Webb was giving a lecture on cognitive asymmetry at the University of Chicago when a woman in a dark suit handed him an envelope during the question-and-answer period. The lecture hall was mostly empty — it was a Thursday afternoon in April, and most of his students had better things to do. The envelope was plain white, unsealed, and contained a single sheet of paper. The paper held a...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 3 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Geometry of IronyThe New York Academy of Fine Arts was a place where ego was the primary currency and sincerity was viewed as a technical flaw. Julian Thorne was the academy's most celebrated provocateur, a man whose art consisted mostly of challenging the viewer's patience. He viewed the world as a series of absurdities, and his life was a performance of calculated detachment. Elena Rossi was the antithesis of...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 3 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Mirror at BlackthorneThe rain in London does not fall so much as it accumulates, layer by attenuated layer, until the city is nothing more than a watercolor painting left out in a storm. Reginald Ashworth had lived through eleven London rains by November 1891, but this one was different—not in its intensity or its duration, but in the particular way it blurred the boundaries between the east and the west, making...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 4 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The coffee at the Silver Spoon is bad. Not restaurant-bad, not diner-bad.He showed up at 2 AM on a Tuesday. I noticed him because he was the only person in the diner who wasn't looking at his phone or staring into space or pretending to read a newspaper he had turned to the sports section. He was drawing on napkins. Equations, I thought at first. Math. Something that looked like math. He was wearing a hoodie two sizes too big. His hair was dark and fell into his...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 4 Views 0 voorbeeld
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THE LAST WALKINGThe sea doesn't care about you. This is the first lesson any北海 fisherman learns, and it is the only lesson that matters. Henrik Varg learned it in 1958, when he was nineteen and stupid and convinced that the North Sea was something you could negotiate with, the way you negotiate with a stubborn cow or a difficult customer at the market. The sea doesn't negotiate. He'd learned this the hard way,...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 3 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Patient from BelowChapter I: The Braking The letter arrived on a Friday, which in Vienna is the day when everyone pretends the weekend is going to save them from things they should have dealt with on Monday. It was typed on government stationery, in a font that was designed to look friendly but achieved only the effect of a smile that does not reach the eyes. The letter informed me that the Weiss Institute for...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 4 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Algorithm of MemoryThe layoff email arrived at 4:47 PM on a Friday, which Sarah Chen would later note as perfectly symbolic. Not Monday morning when everyone expected it, not noon when productivity was already half-dead. Friday afternoon—the moment when your brain is already half-weekend, half-numb from five days of staring at code you didn't write for people who didn't care if you lived or died. She read it...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 4 Views 0 voorbeeld
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Sample V-10: The Alchemist's Ruin(Tragic Romantic Style) Paris in 1788 was a city of gold and filth, a place where the scent of expensive perfume struggled to mask the stench of the gutters. Julian was a man of the shadows, a disgraced scholar who had traded his tenure at the Sorbonne for the forbidden study of alchemy. He lived in a garret that smelled of sulfur and old parchment, chasing a dream of transmutation that most...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 7 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Fifth SignalAct I: The Body The body of Daniel Price was found in his apartment on West 47th Street on a Monday morning. He was thirty-four years old, a senior analyst at the Office of Municipal Procurement, and he had been dead for at least twelve hours when his landlady discovered him. The official report, delivered two days later by a medical examiner with tired eyes and a voice like gravel, said...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 8 Views 0 voorbeeld
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Variant 11: The Last FragmentThe world was a graveyard of steel and glass. In the year 3042, humanity lived in the "Silt-Cities," floating platforms above a planet covered in a thick, suffocating layer of grey ash. Memory had become a luxury; the history of the "Old World" was a collection of fragmented data-shards and myths. Kael was a Scavenger, a man who dove into the ash-seas to recover remnants of the past. During a...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 9 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Gilded LetterThe Gilded Letter I first noticed the letters in the wainscoting behind Lady Isabella’s desk. Not that I meant to find them—I was mending a loose panel in the drawing-room when my chisel caught on something that sounded hollow rather than wooden. The panel gave way with a sigh, and a bundle of sealed envelopes tumbled into my hands, each one tied with a ribbon the colour of dried blood. They...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 8 Views 0 voorbeeld
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