“ ... in the possibility of a confusion of letters of the same character ... ”
Darpa's tenth publication, received by the readers who've joined above, is occasioned by an email here and there, an occasional flat-footed abaciscus, as in a lonely mosaic or as in a geometer moth, or as in the record of a serpentine miner across a leaf distributed over imaginations. Please enter your email above to join in.
and the toll of a bell reached us from the highest perch of the houses.
This memo contains the recollection of a dream, and does not specify an Internet standard.
This talking tower seemed to know the strain of my situation.
The sun rises within me, the rare sun, [let it warm me, let me rave about it.]
They say, 'No, no; it's a robe of light and brightness which I manufactured by thought.'
Gravity falls; our cipher is discovered!
... I stop the machine; and taking up the pen {or needle} in my turn, I write down whatever my friend at the other end strikes out.
"Grammar, the torment of our childhood is an exploded fallacy."
"...and I am now over 80 and beset with work and worries about the future of my work."
while he was thinking of LoCoS (Lover’s Communication System)
"The summit’s members were chanting children’s rhymes about stones, metals, plants, animals, stars..."
Tune into radio SOL SI DO SI – SOL LA LA, endlessly repeating
"There is, here, a present not embraced by the past"