The Tunnel This day was long and behind it dragged a bulky package: a paltry sack of rotten potatoes. A crucial sack that bothers the sides of a tunnel. As the day wore on, striving through to the forsaken end - a light - a dull and apathetically unaware, perpetually measured, constantly corrective light in our retrogressive, perilous universe - winked with intricate randomness. The tunnel, of course, is the fourth dimension. Within it eras stretch back, repeatedly, along its length. Mirrors of today, yesterday. Copies of decades, centuries ago, each patterned to the tempo of the date. So, when the enduring clones in middle of the tunnel are studied a noticeable difference is observed, accompanied with the biting surprise at the state of that present: Those potatoes are ready to be mashed.
July 7th London Bombings took the lives of 56 people today in 2005.
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