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The Seven of The Northern Sea.

Well, there was Bill. His wings were the tenth largest on record. I guess the largest was in North Carolina. No legs were ever found and especially not brought to light. I still think about it a lot, listening to the sounds of my birds, listening against the color of nature, that steady sense of oil on feathers. These things cross your mind while milling away the hours in the dusty dark light within The Panzer Library of Evolutionary Warfare.

Although there are many sections, my favorite is probably The Library of Sea Life. There amongst the preserved sea spiders is the yellow man of the sea. Dried and preserved, he is seated and duck brown in color. He would have made the best of movies, a gallon of sinuous horror.

World Character spends his time probing the channels with a fuzzy blue intent. Eventually he will come to realize that the realm of the ocean is white. There is nothing more to be said about this. Time can repeat itself. Swallowing hours a mouth can become as if it is to visit a doctor, spitting with armor and corruption and all made of brass and lines. It feels as an emblem of The Forty-One, The Prawn Library.

Saturday, I walk the rust lines, hands on wood and thick ropes. Knots and carbuckles and ramps to lower places. I peer through portals into fish tanks and portraits. An average library should have portraits.

I have, in natural shallow containers, mad ears.
They state that The Creep was harnessed into focus along the hide of the sea grass. They tell of stories in indigo, of polynesian boys baiting cranes, occasionally.

There are of course other libraries. In the east there is The Great Library of Nature. We have worked together to sell the story across The Galaxy Guide. On the bottom we placed profiles for use with evolutionary clones.

Back in Memphis, the librarians seemed senseless, black or blunt, as if strange razors had been based upon them. Unlikely as it seems, they always pick up the largest, always armored, and then consume their own edged lives, color and belly. Back here in the north, the monster tinged shore is spotted. No beauty left, just a dark corpse. For years it had been an impressing vision. In fact, Cardy still has the record, 2, mostly in November. Cardy once said that a raven in the water will pick up a temporary glide before being caught to the bottom of The Carolinus Avenue Crevices, or rather, caught by a book between twenty-three and sixty-three.

On Wednesday, the foods are edible and, although green, are pleasant and comforting. I am enjoying my stay and look forward to further work, dream or surface, with The Evolutionary Library, Sea Life Library and games of the Front Nineteen.



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