"O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!"
The Hermit cross'd his brow.
"Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee say—
What manner of man art thou?"

Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench'd
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
And then it left me free.

Tuesday, May 18, 2004

Summer’s end is near… and I am in between renewing myself and preserving it… I never thought that new things would be the actual end of me… nevertheless I am always with hope that I will always find another way to reach out… I know this is all kind of senseless and gibberish… but… this is me… an abstract forever…

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