...
He rolled up the completed bundle of work and slid it into the pneumatic tube. Eight minutes had gone by. He re-adjusted his spectacles on his nose, sighed, and drew the next batch of work towards him, with the scrap of paper on top of it. He flattened it out. On it was written, in a large unformed handwriting:
...
I love you.
...
For several seconds he was too stunned even to throw the incriminating thing into the memory hole. When he did so, although he knew very well the danger of showing too much interest, he could not resist reading it once again, just to make sure that the words were really there.
...
~ George Orwell, from 1984
Housed in the Quiet...
-
I am grateful for the Quiet in this House
that I dwell in...
Immersing me in the Quiet within;
the deep Stillness, with only the whir of the ceiling fan
a...
18 hours ago