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Wanted: A World for Spoon Ram and Nanobots

Taste: a dry red wine, the tannins strong like alum on the tongue straining moisture
Touch: a delicate fuzzed red prickly fruit with skin that bruises and smears at the lightest tough
Smell: salty, pleasantly bitter, orange, an Indian restaurant, a simmering pot of autumn beans: ground cumin; a tart cranberry truffle
Sight: Seattle artist Don Charles' animal sculptures made with bronze, leather, tubing, nails, and spoons, Spoon Ram, Spoon Musk Ox: the little faces that look like they belong walking around in their own world
Sound: muffled emergencies — an attempted robbery, an urgent need ignored, and annoyance — barely penetrate deep winter sleep: too much darkness, not enough iron, not enough vitamin D, perhaps depression?
Extra: Longing and dreaming vividly of something lost, an aching affection ufulfilled. But what? But what? What is truly desired in the waking world?; nanobots, the singularity, slowing or halting senescence, "The empires of the future are the empires of the mind." — Winston Churchill, Primo Posthuman, reading Ray Kurzweil's The Singularity is Near, 2005

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