Pharrell told me that the boy had discovered the existence of Egypt in the library. Do you feel similar? As a man, he and I are fascinated by the same land? I still remember how anxiously I waited for the new book to hit the shelves, or for the next issue of The Archaeological Chronicle of Egypt and Modern Egyptian Archaeology and the Archaeological Record to arrive. The excitement of those days was indescribable, fantasizing about the cover of a new book, looking forward to the color layout and impatient to feel the touch of transparent paper on the cover print. As Ferrell has documented, inspired thinkers can present a rich story: Caldwell arrived in Egypt as early as 1917. This is the magical land he thought about day and night when he was 8 years old. He is indefatigable in his desire to see everything. He learned Arabic, visited the pyramids, and visited all the places he was allowed to enter. But soon after, when he was not granted leave in the army, he sneaked out. Compared with the fantasy of serving in the colonial army, Egypt was too tempting and too realistic for him. Marguerite, think about it, he was so obsessed with this land that he did not care about the punishment that awaited him. He was well aware of the punishment he would receive for repeatedly violating military discipline and deserting his post, but the war seemed increasingly unreal. Perhaps he should have concentrated more in the muddy trenches of Luxembourg. But in the desert of his mind, the croaking of camels beckoned him to run through the night,tape measure clip, to touch the beauty of the Sphinx, to sit at the foot of the great pyramid of Cheops, and to wonder about his destiny in the vast desert. Of course, he had nothing to fear from the slow-moving, slow-witted police. However, on the day I was wounded and disappeared in Turkey,Fiberglass tape measure, Paul Caldwell may have learned that a British officer was visiting an Australian military camp, and that he was an increasingly sophisticated expert in Egyptian archaeology, even now excavating in Egypt. I know all too well the ways of Hugo Mallowe. There is no doubt that Caldwell approached him again and again, trying to win his attention. After his failure, I can imagine that he began to put aside his illusions and work with Marlowe (who was stationed 40 miles away). In fact, Marlowe understood everything. Caldwell eventually won Mallowe's attention and trust, but that doesn't matter now. I can imagine that Marlowe sheltered the boy, and he was excited to hear all the details, the methods of scholarship and exploration, the latest research, and more attractive topics than the latest ideas about Atom Hadu. But, Fish measuring board ,cattle weight tape, of course, Marlowe will talk to Caldwell about Atom Hadu. Marlowe was in his tent, reading clip C, waiting for my return. He should have told Caldwell everything about Atom Hadu, and everything in the story gave the poor boy a wonderful feeling that under this civilization, a genius could reinvent himself every day until one day he became a king. Perhaps Harriman was already a part of Paul's childhood reading, and the fire of Atom Hadu had already awakened him. Now Marlowe is still introducing them to him. If he had survived the war, he would have been a librarian or a teacher in a local boys' school. He would be as smart and charming and cultured as I am, but he lacks status and wealth. He would be a strange man, a poor child who knew Egypt for incomprehensible reasons. If I were him, would you love me? What if he were me? No! How could you. Nobody will remember Paul Caldwell. Nobody should remember him. The last days of Egypt. There will always be this day, the last day. The last moment. The last moment. In every cataclysm there is a single moment, implausible but real: the last casualty of the First World War, the last victim of the Black Death, the last Neanderthal to raise the first modern man. So there must have been one last person who worshipped Atom Hadu and performed the most incredible liturgy for him when he died. There was one last person who knew how to pronounce the ancient Egyptian language; all the languages have become extinct with his death, and now all we can do is to try to learn through books to listen to the echoes of the ancient words and pray hard. For Atom Hadu, there was also such a day. On that day, everything was indisputably gone. No one survived. How did the king feel when he walked through the empty palace and stepped over the bodies that had changed beyond recognition? Sleepy, so mentally and physically exhausted. How I wish everything wasn't the way it is now. How he longed for his queen, for a palace with a peaceful atmosphere, where they could snuggle and rest quietly. It was a day like this, a day that came and went, emptying the universe. Under the threat of invaders, the last red sun still rose from the gates of nomadic tribes, temples and history were burned to ashes, and all words, stories, aspirations and endless future full of glory and love came to an end. On this last day, Atom Hadu stood there quietly, looking around, and even though it was empty, he said his final farewell. He was trapped in it and was no longer under anyone's control, including the incarnation of the great creator Atom. There were no servants, no troops, no porters,Horse weight lbs, no women, no money, and no time. tapemeasure.net