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Overloading the Machine
The Priest's grey nimbus in a niche where he dressed discreetly.
I will not sleep here tonight. Home also I cannot go.
A voice, sweetened and sustained, called to him from the sea.
Turning the curve he waved his hand. A sleek brown head, a seal's, far
out on the water, round. Usurper.
-- James Joyce, "Ulysses"
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