it was a crumbling facade of grey-soot tenement interior... like a set of books of old cliff-bound books was the substance and texture of the room that Superman was in .. alone.. alone.. with a Lois Lane who looked so quintessentially ancient and young and winsome and harmless... harmless... harmless. the words played across Superman's arm-breadth mind like a sick chamber music orchestral death-flourish.. he was alone.. with her.. and it was as if it was a reality that anyone.. but especially a woman this dear and anonymously cloying to him.. that anyone simply sharing a room with Superman.. had to be engulfed like a light autumn leaf in a ferocious wind.. in a death-swoon.. in a death-swoon.. like Superman had to breath death upon anyone simply sharing a physical room with him.. for he was Kryptonian and they were flesh and blood and he was a man made of something like the steel girders of skyscrapers.. would he someday be.. a man of iron..?.. tho.. and then.. like something .. like Pyruss.. it stayed his had.. and Superman was no longer blackly blind.. and he saw Lois Lane.. withdrawing shyly just like young Supergirl.. into a small grin of self-satisfied innocence of slim demeanour.. it was like her eyes and smaller and smaller mouth spoke.. garn.. you don't have to be afraid of Superman.. and it was like.. Superman had never known when fear had not defined his consciousness... and he heard Perry White's voice on the radio..".. since the days of Frank Quietely's Superman.. things have not been the same.. as if the planet Krypton had exploded ever since then.. and Superman's anchorage of soul.. has been lost.. as if Frank Quietely.. had died on Krypton when it recently exploded..".. Superman spoke the words.. the name.. softly..: ..".. Frank.. Quietely.."
.. stochastic disturbance terms.. medusa.net.. medusa.org.. medusa.rom.. medusa.montgomery.. covariance matrices.. maximum-likelihood estimaters... percolate_up; percolate_down.. delete_min.. make_null.. queue_front.. queue_rear....
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