Friday, February 02, 2007


Insulator from the railway telegraph line.
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert... Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
My name is Ozymandius, King of Kings,
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

by: Percy Bysshe Shelley

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A view of the siding at Neuroodla. Nothing left of the siding other than a sign and platforms. 40 degrees, brings to mind Shelley's poem, despite lack of lone and level sands. At least today. Abnormally green due to last weeks rain.

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