Received: from [91.92.115.248] (port=46607 helo=pantheistic.nitomorrow.win) by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with esmtp (Exim 4.86_2) (envelope-from ) id 1c1FI9-0005YF-5q for lojban@lojban.org; Mon, 31 Oct 2016 09:18:38 -0700 Date: Mon, 31 Oct 2016 12:13:10 -0400 To: lojban@lojban.org From: Ukraine Dating Made Easy Reply-to: Ukraine Dating Made Easy Subject: A Gorgeous Russian Bride Could Be Yours Message-ID: <72596bb1a15d7b454a1e4526d1f97880@q.nitomorrow.win> MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: multipart/alternative; boundary="b1_72596bb1a15d7b454a1e4526d1f97880" X-Spam-Score: -0.1 (/) X-Spam_score: -0.1 X-Spam_score_int: 0 X-Spam_bar: / --b1_72596bb1a15d7b454a1e4526d1f97880 Content-Type: text/plain; charset = "iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit Not able to view our Ad because of images being off? Go ahead and browse this, him. Then herocked his eye over the sheet of music spread out on the table before him. He tried his flute. Andthen at last, with the odd gesture of a diver taking a plunge, he sbhe swung his head and 6nsbhe began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. nsbhe He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms with slight, intense movements, as bhe the delicate music bhe poured out. It ovf76nshe vf76nsbe was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid and delicate. sbhe The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity 76nsbhe 6nsbhe of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense, exasperatedto the point of intolerable bhe anger, in his good-humored rest, as he played thefinely-spun peace-music. The more exquisite the music, the more perfectly he produced it, in sheer bliss; and at the same time, the more intense was the maddened exasperation within him. Millicent vf76nsbe appeared 76nsbhe in the room. She fidgetted at the sink. The music was sbhe a bugbear to her, because it prevented her from saying what was on her own mind. At length it ended, her father was turning over the various books and sheets. She looked at him quickly, seizing her opportunity. “Are you going out, Father?” she said. “Eh?” “Are ovf76nshe bhe you going out?” She twisted nervously. “What do you want to know for?” He made bhe no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then bhe over it again — then sbhe more closely over it sbhe again. “Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were nsbhe angry under knitted brows. “What are ovf76nshe sbhe you bothering about?” he vf76nsbe said. “I’m not bothering — I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I 76nsbhe expect I am,” he said quietly. She recovered at nsbhe once, but still vf76nsbe with sbhe timidity asked: “We haven’t got any sbhe candles for the Christmas tree — shall you buy some, because mother isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling ovf76nshe his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy nsbhe us ovf76nshe ovf76nshe some, Father? Shall bhe you?” “Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo nsbhe to his mouth and blowing a few ovf76nshe piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles nsbhe — blue bhe ones and red ones, in boxes — Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see — if I see any —” “But SHALL 6nsbhe you?” she insisted sbhe desperately. She sbhe wisely mistrusted his vagueness. But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, 6nsbhe shrill, brilliant. He 76nsbhe was playing Mozart. The child’s face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went sbhe out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music vf76nsbe seemed to possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man sbhe went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. 76nsbhe In the frosty evening the 76nsbhe sound carried. people phiing down the street hesitated, listening. The neighbours knew it was Aaron practising his piccolo. He was esteemed a good player: was in request at concerts and ovf76nshe . --b1_72596bb1a15d7b454a1e4526d1f97880 Content-Type: text/html; charset = "iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit












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him. Then herocked his eye over the sheet of music spread out on the table before him. He tried his flute. Andthen at last, with the odd gesture of a diver taking a plunge, he przk


swung his head and gyprzk began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. yprzk He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms



with slight, intense movements, as rzk the delicate music rzk poured out. It qlahgypzk lahgyprk was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid





and delicate. przk The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity hgyprzk gyprzk of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense,


exasperatedto the point of intolerable rzk anger, in his good-humored rest, as he played thefinely-spun peace-music. The more exquisite the music, the more perfectly he produced it,


in sheer bliss; and at the same time, the more intense was the maddened exasperation within him. Millicent lahgyprk appeared hgyprzk in the room. She fidgetted at the



sink. The music was przk a bugbear to her, because it prevented her from saying what was on her own mind. At length it ended, her father was turning over the various books and sheets.





She looked at him quickly, seizing her opportunity. “Are you going out, Father?” she said. “Eh?” “Are qlahgypzk rzk you going out?” She twisted nervously.



“What do you want to know for?” He made rzk no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then rzk over it again — then przk more closely over it przk again.





“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were yprzk angry under knitted brows. “What are qlahgypzk przk you bothering about?” he lahgyprk said.



“I’m not bothering — I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I hgyprzk expect I am,” he said quietly.


She recovered at yprzk once, but still lahgyprk with przk timidity asked: “We haven’t got any przk candles for the Christmas tree — shall you buy some, because mother




isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling qlahgypzk his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy yprzk us qlahgypzk qlahgypzk some, Father? Shall rzk you?”




“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo yprzk to his mouth and blowing a few qlahgypzk piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles yprzk — blue rzk ones and red




ones, in boxes — Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see — if I see any —” “But SHALL gyprzk you?” she insisted przk desperately. She przk wisely mistrusted his vagueness.



But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, gyprzk shrill, brilliant. He hgyprzk was playing Mozart. The child’s


face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went przk out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music lahgyprk seemed to



possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man przk went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. hgyprzk In the frosty evening the hgyprzk sound carried.



people phiing down the street hesitated, listening. The neighbours knew it was Aaron practising his piccolo. He was esteemed a good player: was in request at concerts and qlahgypzk .

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