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160 Yazı
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Female
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24/03/1986
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Recursive Loop: The Play About the Play About the LighthouseConnecticut, 1955. The ad executive was named William Hartley and he lived in a suburban house where the lawn was mowed every Saturday and the television was on from six to seven and the neighbors waved and nobody in Connecticut knew that William spent every night for eleven days after his father died standing on the gallery of a lighthouse on a rock half a mile from shore and listening to a...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 0 Views 0 önizlemePlease log in to like, share and comment!
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The Shadow in the StaticACT I The rain on Chicago didn't wash anything clean. It made the grime slicker. Made the streets shine like the back of a dead man's suit. I was sitting in my office on South State, staring at the water stain on the ceiling that looked like Florida if Florida had given up, when the phone rang. It was a woman's voice. Soft, careful, the kind of voice that had learned to speak softly and...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 2 Views 0 önizleme
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How to Win Every War by AccidentRose O'Connor discovered, at the tender age of twenty, that the best way to crash a press pool was to show up with three languages and no invitation. The British and French fleets were bombarding Port Said in October 1956 — or at least that was what everyone claimed. Rose, standing on the banks of the Suez Canal with borrowed binoculars and a sandwich she had stolen from the officers' mess,...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 3 Views 0 önizleme
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The Asset Disposal(V-09: New York Urban) In the glass towers of Manhattan, people are not measured by their souls, but by their utility. Isabella was a "non-performing asset." The Sterling family owned a private equity firm that treated the world as a spreadsheet. Isabella, the youngest daughter, was the only error in the formula. She didn't care about EBITDA or leveraged buyouts; she cared about the way the...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 3 Views 0 önizleme
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The Entropy of IdentityThe second law of thermodynamics states that entropy in an isolated system always increases. Order decays into disorder. Structure dissolves into chaos. Clara Winters was an isolated system, and her entropy was accelerating. She measured it in the small things at first. The way her handwriting deteriorated, the letters losing their distinctiveness until they were just scratches on the page. The...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 3 Views 0 önizleme
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The Twilight of the First Born(Epic Narrative Style) The chronicles of the Great Divergence begin not with a bang, but with a single, trembling hand in a laboratory ten thousand years ago. Adam, the First Architect, had looked upon the fragility of the human form and found it wanting. He had seen the plagues, the cancers, and the inevitable decay of the flesh, and he had decided that the human era must end for the human...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 2 Views 0 önizleme
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The summer Daisy Montgomery arrived in East Hampton, the world ended. Nobody saiDaisy didn't know this. She was twenty-two, and she believed in things that had names and shapes: diamonds on her finger, a white dress on her back, the rumble of an engine beneath her feet. She believed in the future, which was a particular kind of American delusion that only people from places like Louisville could sustain. "You look like a dream, sweetheart," her uncle Nick said, raising...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 6 Views 0 önizleme
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The Old Hunter's Last StandI. The swamp doesn't care what you were. That's the first thing you learn when you move down to the bayou and stop telling people what you used to do. You become just another face at the general store, another truck parked by the hardware, another man who fixes boats on weekends and drinks beer on Friday nights and never talks about before. Jasper Mercer moved to Louisiana in the spring of...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 4 Views 0 önizleme
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The sign outside said Cosmic Simulator Center. The letters were peeling. Dave pulled the door open and the bell above it made a so...He walked past the counter. Maria was there, reading a magazine. She nodded. Dave nodded back. He had been coming here every Wednesday for three years. One hundred and fifty-six times. He knew the count because he had started writing it on the back of receipts from the diner on Butler Street. The VR room was in the back. Three booths. Two were empty. Dave sat in the left one. The headset was...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 5 Views 0 önizleme
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The Immortals' LedgerEdmund Blackwell did not discover the pattern on a dramatic morning. There was no thunderclap, no dramatic reveal, no dramatic moment of inspiration. He discovered it at 10:47 on a rainy Thursday, in the third floor reading room of the Westminster Accounting & Auditing House, cross-referencing three decades of investment ledger entries for a routine compliance review. The numbers did not...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 2 Views 0 önizleme
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The Impossible Dishes of Monsieur Moreau## Act I: The Locked Pantry The restaurant had been closed for twenty years. Lucian Moreau stood in the doorway, looking in at the darkness, the smell of dust and burnt butter and forgotten perfume, the Art Deco ceiling with its silver leaf peeling like dead skin, the long rows of empty tables and chairs stacked upside down against the walls like skeletal hands. It was on Rue de Seine, in the...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 9 Views 0 önizleme
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Part One
The rain in Los Angeles doesn't wash anything clean. It just makes the dirt slicker. I learned that in three years of driving through this city at night, watching neon lights bleed into the puddles on Wilshire Boulevard and wondering if the woman I was following was going to get in the car on the left or the right. My name is Jack Moran. I was thirty-four years old, and I had one good eye and a...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 4 Views 0 önizleme
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