The row on row of IBM Selectrics clacking the smell is still with me hanging like the memory of disappointment 3rd period typing. The dot com bubble still a decade or more away why the hell would I want to learn to type? I wanted to be a boss not a slave. To be young again.
walking along the concourse Admiring the late spring sunshine dappled along shapely forms young women in sun dresses Then, it occurs to me that the few smiling back do so only because they see their grandfather whistling along with only momentary guilt
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