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One Hundred Words
One hundred words. That’s it, and soon they’ll be gone. You wouldn’t believe there were that many unless you counted them. What’s to trust of a typist’s graze of plastic squares on an electronic? Why would you believe a number left on the web of interconnections, the internet, so they call it. Not even physical ink on page, black liquid dried on crushed up tree, but here, on your screen- intangible, who knows what color of hand hit the keys to click out this sentence. Who knows what age? I will not tell you; who will? Did you count them?
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A musing on the mystery of online publishing