There was a heavy drinker from Tallinn who drank Vana Tallinn by the gallon. You've caught the great lie I laxly let fly: It comes in liters in metric Tallinn.
Tallinn Limerick
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The clouds hang gray this mid-winter day, while streets glisten with the watery sheen of rains that never break for long. Wheels roll through, throwing the water into a swish-slosh song. All seems clean, if perpetually dreary. The air looks clear, though some funk clings to one's shoulders as one walks through town, and every scent is compressed in intensity at street level. streets glisten, the city slick from rains that linger
A volcanic cone looms in the distance, far but not so far that it can't lend perspective. The cone draws the eye, beautifying the backdrop, crediting the city character, but - also - making it seem small. The volcano plays the stalwart guardian, but stands as the destroyer, promising devastation on some dark and distant day. The citizens love living under the great volcano, but one day it will spit fire, raining down a dense dust, pelting the city with rock chunks that fall like fiery hailstones. the volcano features in every photo, but heed its rumbles
Tokyo Junkie: 60 Years of Bright Lights and Back Alleys . . . and Baseball by Robert WhitingIn my dream, the city stretched out beyond what I could see. Colorful concrete pillbox roofs spread to infinity. Oh, such an infinite city must have some great allure. Miracles, mysteries, mayhem, and madness - that's for sure. What secrets reside behind those thick and dampening slabs? What unknown fortunes have been lost, that now are up for grabs? How many souls are lost right now? Panic starting to rise. How many will be found in time due to those spying eyes? There's some magic in this city, I'm sure that there must be. For everything can happen when you stretch to infinity.