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179 المنشورات
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0 الصور
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Male
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03/04/1978
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التحديثات الأخيرة
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The Kansas Machine CommonsACT I: THE PRAIRIE AND THE NOTEBOOK The notebook was filled with sketches of machines that did not exist yet. Tom McReedy sat on the tailgate of his truck and stared at the Kansas prairie stretching in every direction, a flat golden ocean under a sky so wide it made him feel small in the way that soldiers learn to feel small -- not with fear, but with the dull acceptance of being insignificant...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 3 مشاهدة 0 معاينةالرجاء تسجيل الدخول , للأعجاب والمشاركة والتعليق على هذا!
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The Red Fox of OakhavenThe river did not forgive, and it rarely forgot. It moved through the Mississippi Delta like a patient predator, slow and certain and older than the men who thought they understood it. Jesse and Cole understood nothing. They were two men on the run from a murder back east, their hearts hammering a rhythm that sounded too much like a confession with every mile. They had killed a man in...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 9 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The patient from belowDr. Eleanor Hart had been coming to the Blackwood Institute for three weeks when she first heard the word transfiguration. The patient who said it was in Room 217—the highest security room on the fourth floor, where the walls were padded with beige fabric that had been stained by decades of fingerprints, heads thrown against them in moments of despair, and hands pressed flat in moments of...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 8 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Ghost of the Bronx(V-07: New York Realism / Student Perspective) I remember Leo as a man who smelled of old library books and cheap peppermint. He was a walking disaster—a fraying tweed jacket, glasses held together by tape, and a cough that sounded like a gravel crusher. To most of us at the community center, he was just 'the weird guy.' He didn't talk about sports or money; he talked about the curvature of...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 7 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Devil's ShrineJack "Qin" Chen was thirty-five years old and had forgotten more about his own life than most people knew about anyone else's. He had forgotten his mother's face. He had forgotten the sound of his father's voice. He had forgotten the name of the girl he had loved in high school and the reason they had broken up and whether she had been happy after him. He had forgotten his own name, for that...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 1 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Golden ExchangeThe ticker tape never stopped talking. That was the first thing Vincent Moretti learned on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange: the machine had opinions, and they came in the form of punched paper ribbons that fell like confetti from the ceiling of a cathedral built for a new god. He was nineteen, Irish-Italian from Hester Street, with ink on his fingers and a photographic memory that made...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 7 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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THE MIRROR IN THE BASEMENTACT I: THE WINDOWLESS ROOM Lord Alistair Finch-Worthingham inherited Blackwood Park on a Tuesday in November, which seemed appropriate: Tuesdays were the kind of days on which serious things happened—inheritances, deaths, the slow realization that one's life has been a performance for an audience that stopped watching years ago. The house was exactly as one might expect a country house named...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 9 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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THE WEIGHT OF NOTHING### Act I: The Spark Ethan Cross stood in the supermarket aisle for twelve minutes before making a decision. The decision was about cereal. There were fourteen brands on the shelf, from store-brand corn flakes at three dollars a box to artisanal granola at nine dollars, and Ethan was trying to choose one. Not because he was hungry—hunger was not the issue. The issue was that each choice carried...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 8 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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ACT IDr. Julian Frost found his own biography in a Taiping archival document, written in 1854—twenty years before he was born. The discovery happened on a Tuesday, in the imperial archives of Tianjing, where Julian had spent the last three months cataloging rebel propaganda and religious texts for his forthcoming Oxford publication. He was thirty-two, a man of meticulous habits and rational...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 11 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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THE LAST LIGHT OF NEW CARTHAGEI found Grandfather's diary in the cellar on a Tuesday in October, 1872. The house was cold—the coal fire had been banked too early, as it always is when one lives alone—and the smell of damp stone and forgotten things rose to meet me as I descended the narrow stairs with a candle in my hand. There, behind a stack of water-stained furniture covers, in a tin box whose lock had rusted solid, was...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 7 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The first time it happened, I thought I was having a stroke.The first time it happened, I thought I was having a stroke. Dr. Thomas Reid sat in his office at MIT, staring at the whiteboard covered in equations that described the quantum behavior of subatomic particles. The coffee in his mug had gone cold three hours ago. He was forty-two years old, had been a professor of theoretical physics for eighteen years, and had never experienced anything like...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 12 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Last Liturgy of the AegisThe Empire of the Aegis had spanned ten thousand years and a million stars. It was a civilization of gold and glass, of singing cities and ships that could fold space like a piece of silk. They had forgotten the meaning of the word "fear." They believed they were the pinnacle of existence, the final answer to the question of the universe. Then came The Void. It was not an army, not a plague,...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 16 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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