I can’t read it either… 😦
Sometimes I grow weary of my pecking system. I wish instead of typing in the words i could simply write them out cursive as I did here. But here we go with the digital curse again. I must scan it if you are to see it, to read it. And that brings up the word scan.
I once wrote a poem concerning an amateur radio subject of which I was fond. I sent it to Wayne Greene, an eccentric old man, an author of whom I can say this because he’s no long among us.
A few weeks passed and he responded with a rejection poem far superior to the one I’d sent him. He ended the last line with the word scan and included his phone number. I called him about the poem and after a few minutes of discussion he said: “You don’t know the definition of scan, do you? Look it up and call me back.”
I looked it up but I didn’t call.