Up Front: Tomorrow Lives Forever
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Clint didn’t respond. He figured by writing under the sudonym “Normon de plom” He could maintain the anonymity he desperately needed. Clint had turned feral after being booted out of the house. He was eating pavlover, he’d been making from pigeons eggs.
Athena, at Tatiana’s insistence, Put Clint in the outside wash house. They found him sleeping outside the collective at around eleven o’ clock. The wash house was the best place at this time. Clint had difficulty with his aim, and Athena, being y’know, was not going to handle the toilet seat. He had been given a copy of Hemingway, The old man and the sea, one night at the homeless shelter, some time several mounths ago, at around eleven o’ clock. He hadn’t read it, but know it was classic, and written in style that he might get his head around.
The wash house had one power point. Tatiana ran the phone cable out. Clint still had his double adapter with surge protection…
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So he began writing the book...
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