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Two toads up to trouble.

My clock is always wound,
no time to let the seconds tick away.

I grew used to letting the moss gather.
a fern bending to the touch of the unfamiliar.

I long to be sought through the spyglass of the one I love.

To be habitually loved is not enough.
To habitually love another is not good enough either.

The spirit of the pigment I have accepted as my own,
embraced abroad, swirls in a rainstorm down the sewer systems
of a town I wish to walk in at night time. 


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Similar to the way people get excited about the new iphone, at times in history people were getting excited about the newest model of typewriters.  Companies were competing against one another to make their writer the best of the best.  
During my research on this writer I found a fun story. In 1927 George E. Smith, the president of Royal at the time, purchased a Ford-Stout airplane for $75,000.  He then proceeded to deliver typewriters like this one by the thousands in crates by parachute to demonstrate the ruggedness of the Royal writers.  
These images are found in the Popular Mechanics November 1927 issue.
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