Nutrition Facts - Nadeem Haidary

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SORT BY AUTHOR Absalom, Absalom! The Adventures of Huck... Animal Farm Atlas Shrugged Blink Library REFERENCE Search Dictionary Thesaurus Encyclopedia Active Reading FICTION BESTSELLERS South of Broad Smash Cut The Help That Old Cape Magic The Girl Who Played Wi... The Eleventh Victim BiblioStore TEXT Text Size (10pt) Typeface (Sabon) Language (English) Preferences THE INTERFACE A Border Passage Catch-22 Common Sense The Design of Everyday... Don Quixote Dress Your Family in Co... Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde APPLICATIONS Notes Fictional Convergences Comprehension Quiz Book Club The Neighborhood NON-FICTION BESTSELLERS Culture of Corruption Outliers Liberty and Tyranny In the President’s Secret... Catastrophe The Wilderness Warrior CONTROLS Touchscreen Buttons Keyboard Stylus The Elements of Style Ender's Game The English Patient A Farewell to Arms The Fountainhead The Giver The God Delusion GAMES Word Search Lingo Speed Reading RECOMMENDED The Art of Looking Side... Critical Path Finnegan’s Wake The God of Small Things I Miss My Pencil Slaughterhouse-Five TECHNICAL Network Color Audio The Grapes of Wrath Great Expectations The Great Gatsby Gulliver’s Travels Hamlet The Handmaid’s Tale Heart of Darkness EDIT Re-write The Editor Fan Fiction FREEBIES Aesop’s Fables The Book of Jonah Beowulf Gulliver’s Travels The Invisible Man Jane Eyre FURTHER About Reset SORT BY AUTHOR Absalom, Absalom! The Adventures of Huck... Animal Farm Atlas Shrugged Blink A Border Passage Catch-22 Common Sense The Design of Everyday... Don Quixote Dress Your Family in Co... Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde The Elements of Style Ender's Game The English Patient A Farewell to Arms The Fountainhead The Giver The God Delusion The Grapes of Wrath Great Expectations The Great Gatsby Gulliver’s Travels Hamlet The Handmaid’s Tale Heart of Darkness The Hobbit Hound of the Baskervilles The Elements of Style Ender's Game The English Patient A Farewell to Arms The Fountainhead The Giver The God Delusion The Grapes of Wrath Great Expectations The Great Gatsby Gulliver’s Travels Hamlet The Handmaid’s Tale Heart of Darkness Library The Hobbit Hound of the Baskervilles Ideas: A History of Thou... Into Thin Air The Joy Luck Club The Last Lecture The Last of the Mohicans The Laws of Simplicity Life of Pi Lord of the Flies Massive Change Me Talk Pretty One Day The Metamorphosis Midnight's Children Moby-Dick Moll Flanders Mythology The Namesake Native Son The New Testament No Exit The Old Testament Oliver Twist One Hundred Years of S... On the Road Operating Manual for Spaceship Earth Outliers A Passage to India The Picture of Dorian Gr... A Portrait of the Artist as... A Prayer for Owen Meany Pride and Prejudice Processing The Red Pony The Republic Robinson Crusoe The Satanic Verses A Seperate Peace Siddhartha Slaughterhouse-Five Things Fall Apart The Things They Carried A Thousand Splendid S... tee what domestic animal? Tee dash ar most courageous mariner. Good voice he has still. No eunuch yet with all his belongings. Listen. Bloom listened. Richie Goulding listened. And by the door deaf Pat, bald Pat, tipped Pat, listened. The chords harped slower. The voice of penance and of grief came slow, embellished, tremulous. Ben's contrite beard confessed. IN NOMINE DOMINI, in God's name he knelt. He beat his hand upon his breast, confessing: MEA CULPA. Latin again. That holds them like birdlime. Priest with the communion corpus for those women. Chap in the mortuary, cof�n or coffey, CORPUSNOMINE. Wonder where that rat is by now. Scrape. Tap. They listened. Tankards and miss Kennedy. George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. Kernan. Si. The sighing voice of sorrow sang. His sins. Since Easter he had cursed three times. You bitch's bast. And once at masstime he had gone to play. Once by the churchyard he had passed and for his mother's rest he had not prayed. A boy. A croppy boy. Bronze, listening, by the beerpull gazed far away. Soulfully. Doesn't half know I'm. Molly great dab at seeing anyone looking. Bronze gazed far sideways. Mirror there. Is that best side of her face? They always know. Knock at the door. Last tip to titivate. Cockcarracarra. What do they think when they hear music? Way to catch rattlesnakes. Night Michael Gunn gave us the box. Tuning up. Shah of Persia liked that best. Remind him of home sweet home. Wiped his nose in curtain too. Custom his country perhaps. That's music too. Not as bad as it sounds. Tootling. 272 The Tipping Point To Kill a Mockingbird The Trial Ulysses The Unbearable Lightne... Uncle Tom's Cabin Universal Principles of D... The Visual Display of Qu... When You Are Engulfed... The Yellow Wallpaper EXPAND LIBRARY 1 RESUME ULYSSES 2 using a color e-paper display that only consumes power when updated and a capacitive touchscreen, Bibliofile’s interface supports stylus or finger interaction. It was designed with the challenge of updating the display as little as possible to conserve energy. Press or circle Expand icon Underline or touch Ulysses with stylus Use stylus to write notes in the margin Pull �ipper up to advance a page tee what domestic animal? Tee dash ar most courageous mariner. Good voice he has still. No eunuch yet with all his belongings. Listen. Bloom listened. Richie Goulding listened. And by the door deaf Pat, bald Pat, tipped Pat, listened. The chords harped slower. The voice of penance and of grief came slow, embellished, tremulous. Ben's contrite beard confessed. IN NOMINE DOMINI, in God's name he knelt. He beat his hand upon his breast, confessing: MEA CULPA. Latin again. That holds them like birdlime. Priest with the communion corpus for those women. Chap in the mortuary, cof�n or coffey, CORPUSNOMINE. Wonder where that rat is by now. Scrape. Tap. They listened. Tankards and miss Kennedy. George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. Kernan. Si. The sighing voice of sorrow sang. His sins. Since Easter he had cursed three times. You bitch's bast. And once at masstime he had gone to play. Once by the churchyard he had passed and for his mother's rest he had not prayed. A boy. A croppy boy. Bronze, listening, by the beerpull gazed far away. Soulfully. Doesn't half know I'm. Molly great dab at seeing anyone looking. Bronze gazed far sideways. Mirror there. Is that best side of her face? They always know. Knock at the door. Last tip to titivate. Cockcarracarra. What do they think when they hear music? Way to catch rattlesnakes. Night Michael Gunn gave us the box. Tuning up. Shah of Persia liked that best. Remind him of home sweet home. Wiped his nose in curtain too. Custom his country perhaps. That's music too. Not as bad as it sounds. Tootling. TAKE NOTES WITH STYLUS 3 GO TO NEXT PAGE 4 1 2 3 4 272
5 6 7 Push or pull �ipper while pressing right button. Underline “crocus” while pushing button on stylus. Touch stylus in application to release word there. Write “140” adjacent to page number and use �ipper. Brasses braying asses through uptrunks. Doublebasses, helpless, gashes in their sides. Woodwinds mooing cows. Semigrand open crocodile music hath jaws. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. She looked �ne. Her crocus dress she wore, lowcut, belongings on show. Clove her breath was always in theatre when she bent to ask a question. Told her what Spinoza says in that book of poor papa's. Hypnotised, listening. Eyes like that. She bent. Chap in dresscircle, staring down into her with his operaglass for all he was worth. Beauty of music you must hear twice. Nature woman half a look. God made the country man the tune. Met him pike hoses. Philosophy. O rocks! All gone. All fallen. At the siege of Ross his father, at Gorey all his brothers fell. To Wexford, we are the boys of Wexford, he would. Last of his name and race. I too, last my race. Milly young student. Well, my fault perhaps. No son. Rudy. Too late now. Or if not? If not? If still? He bore no hate. Hate. Love. Those are names. Rudy. Soon I am old. Big Ben his voice unfolded. Great voice, Richie Goulding said, a �ush struggling in his pale, to Bloom, soon old but when was young. Ireland comes now. My country above the King. She listens. Who fears to speak of nineteen four? Time to be shoving. Looked enough. -- Bless me, father, Dollard the croppy cried. Bless me and let me go. Tap. Bloom looked, unblessed to go. Got up to kill: on eighteen bob a week. Fellows shell out the dibs. Want to keep your weathereye open. Those girls, those lovely. By the sad sea waves. Chorusgirl's romance. Letters read out for breach of promise. From Chicka- 273 PROMPT ACTIVE READING MARGIN 5 Brasses braying asses through uptrunks. Doublebasses, helpless, gashes in their sides. Woodwinds mooing cows. Semigrand open crocodile music hath jaws. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. She looked �ne. Her crocus dress she wore, lowcut, belongings on show. Clove her breath was always in theatre when she bent to ask a question. Told her what Spinoza says in that book of poor papa's. Hypnotised, listening. Eyes like that. She bent. Chap in dresscircle, staring down into her with his operaglass for all he was worth. Beauty of music you must hear twice. Nature woman half a look. God made the country man the tune. Met him pike hoses. Philosophy. O rocks! All gone. All fallen. At the siege of Ross his father, at Gorey all his brothers fell. To Wexford, we are the boys of Wexford, he would. Last of his name and race. I too, last my race. Milly young student. Well, my fault perhaps. No son. Rudy. Too late now. Or if not? If not? If still? He bore no hate. Hate. Love. Those are names. Rudy. Soon I am old. Big Ben his voice unfolded. Great voice, Richie Goulding said, a �ush struggling in his pale, to Bloom, soon old but when was young. Ireland comes now. My country above the King. She listens. Who fears to speak of nineteen four? Time to be shoving. Looked enough. -- Bless me, father, Dollard the croppy cried. Bless me and let me go. Tap. Bloom looked, unblessed to go. Got up to kill: on eighteen bob a week. Fellows shell out the dibs. Want to keep your weathereye open. Those girls, those lovely. By the sad sea waves. Chorusgirl's romance. Letters read out for breach of promise. From Chicka- 273 Brasses braying asses through uptrunks. Doublebasses, helpless, gashes in their sides. Woodwinds mooing cows. Semigrand open crocodile music hath jaws. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. She looked �ne. Her crocus dress she wore, lowcut, belongings on show. Clove her breath was always in theatre when she bent to ask a question. Told her what Spinoza says in that book of poor papa's. Hypnotised, listening. Eyes like that. She bent. Chap in dresscircle, staring down into her with his operaglass for all he was worth. Beauty of music you must hear twice. Nature woman half a look. God made the country man the tune. Met him pike hoses. Philosophy. O rocks! All gone. All fallen. At the siege of Ross his father, at Gorey all his brothers fell. To Wexford, we are the boys of Wexford, he would. Last of his name and race. I too, last my race. Milly young student. Well, my fault perhaps. No son. Rudy. Too late now. Or if not? If not? If still? He bore no hate. Hate. Love. Those are names. Rudy. Soon I am old. Big Ben his voice unfolded. Great voice, Richie Goulding said, a �ush struggling in his pale, to Bloom, soon old but when was young. Ireland comes now. My country above the King. She listens. Who fears to speak of nineteen four? Time to be shoving. Looked enough. -- Bless me, father, Dollard the croppy cried. Bless me and let me go. Tap. Bloom looked, unblessed to go. Got up to kill: on eighteen bob a week. Fellows shell out the dibs. Want to keep your weathereye open. Those girls, those lovely. By the sad sea waves. Chorusgirl's romance. Letters read out for breach of promise. From Chicka- 273 SEARCH DICTIONARY cro·cus (kroh-kuhs) n. 1 Any of the small, bulbous plants of the genus Crocus, of the iris family 2 A deep yellow; saffron. [ME < L < Gk krókos saffron] — cro·cused adj. FICT. CONVERGENCES WORD SEARCH SKIP TO PAGE 140 SEARCH DICTIONARY FICT. CONVERGENCES WORD SEARCH 7 Same blue serge dress she had two years ago, the nap bleaching. Seen its best days. Wispish hair over her ears. And that dowdy toque: three old grapes to take the harm out of it. Shabby genteel. She used to be a tasty dresser. Lines round her mouth. Only a year or so older than Molly. See the eye that woman gave her, passing. Cruel. The unfair sex. He looked still at her, holding back behind his look his discontent. Pungent mockturtle oxtail mulligatawny. I'm hungry too. Flakes of pastry on the gusset of her dress: daub of sugary �our stuck to her cheek. Rhubarb tart with liberal �llings, rich fruit interior. Josie Powell that was. In Luke Doyle's long ago, Dolphin's Barn, the charades. U.p: up. Change the subject. -- Do you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy? Mr Bloom asked. -- Mina Purefoy? she said. Philip Beaufoy I was thinking. Playgoers' club. Matcham often thinks of the masterstroke. Did I pull the chain? Yes. The last act. -- Yes. -- I just called to ask on the way in is she over it. She's in the lying-in hospital in Holles street. Dr Horne got her in. She's three days bad now. -- O, Mr Bloom said. I'm sorry to hear that. -- Yes, Mrs Breen said. And a houseful of kids at home. It's a very stiff birth, the nurse told me. -- O, Mr Bloom said. His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. His tongue clacked in compassion. Dth! Dth! -- I'm sorry to hear that, he said. Poor thing! Three days! That's 140 Same blue serge dress she had two years ago, the nap bleaching. Seen its best days. Wispish hair over her ears. And that dowdy toque: three old grapes to take the harm out of it. Shabby genteel. She used to be a tasty dresser. Lines round her mouth. Only a year or so older than Molly. See the eye that woman gave her, passing. Cruel. The unfair sex. He looked still at her, holding back behind his look his discontent. Pungent mockturtle oxtail mulligatawny. I'm hungry too. Flakes of pastry on the gusset of her dress: daub of sugary �our stuck to her cheek. Rhubarb tart with liberal �llings, rich fruit interior. Josie Powell that was. In Luke Doyle's long ago, Dolphin's Barn, the charades. U.p: up. Change the subject. -- Do you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy? Mr Bloom asked. SEARCH -- Mina Purefoy? she said. Philip Beaufoy I was thinking. Playgoers' club. Matcham often thinks of the masterstroke. Did I pull the chain? Yes. The last act. -- Yes. -- I just called to ask on the way in is she over it. She's in the lying-in hospital in Holles street. Dr Horne got her in. She's three days bad now. -- O, Mr Bloom said. I'm sorry to hear that. DICTIONARY cro·cus (kroh-kuhs) n. -- Yes, Mrs Breen said. And a houseful of kids at home. It's a very SEARCH DICTIONARY cro·cus (kroh-kuhs) n. 1 Any of the small, bulbous plants of the genus Crocus, of the iris family 2 A deep yellow; saffron. [ME < L < Gk krókos saffron] — cro·cused adj. FICT. CONVERGENCES WORD SEARCH DEFINE “CROCUS” 6 LEFT-HANDED USE SEARCH DICTIONARY cro·cus (kroh-kuhs) n. 1 Any of the small, bulbous plants of the genus Crocus, of the iris family 2 A deep yellow; saffron. stiff birth, the nurse told me. -- O, Mr Bloom said. 1 Any of the small, bulbous plants of the genus Crocus, of the iris family 2 A deep yellow; saffron. [ME < L < Gk krókos saffron] — cro·cused Same adj. blue serge dress she had two years ago, the nap bleaching. Seen its best days. Wispish hair over her ears. And that dowdy toque: three old grapes to take the harm out of it. Shabby genteel. FICT. CONVERGENCES She used to be a tasty dresser. Lines round her mouth. Only a year or so older than Molly. See the eye that woman gave her, passing. Cruel. The unfair sex. He looked still at her, holding back behind his look his discontent. Pungent mockturtle oxtail mulligatawny. I'm hungry too. Flakes of pastry on the gusset of her dress: daub of sugary �our stuck to her cheek. Rhubarb tart with liberal �llings, rich fruit interior. Josie Powell that was. In Luke Doyle's long ago, WORD Dolphin's SEARCH Barn, the charades. U.p: up. Change the subject. -- Do you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy? Mr Bloom asked. His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. [ME His < L tongue < Gk krókos clacked saffron] in compassion. Dth! Dth! — cro·cused adj. -- Mina Purefoy? she said. -- I'm sorry to hear that, he said. Poor thing! Three days! That's FICT. CONVERGENCES 140 Philip Beaufoy I was thinking. Playgoers' club. Matcham often thinks of the masterstroke. Did I pull the chain? Yes. The last act. -- Yes. -- I just called to ask on the way in is she over it. She's in the lying-in hospital in Holles street. Dr Horne got her in. She's three days bad now. -- O, Mr Bloom said. I'm sorry to hear that. WORD SEARCH -- Yes, Mrs Breen said. And a houseful of kids at home. It's a very stiff birth, the nurse told me. -- O, Mr Bloom said. His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. His tongue clacked in compassion. Dth! Dth! -- I'm sorry to hear that, he said. Poor thing! Three days! That's 140
Page 1 and 2: © PORTFOLIO 2009 02 15 26 32 35 39
Page 3 and 4: 3 IN-FORMED / 2008-2009 / SELF-DRIV
Page 5 and 6: THE CONTEXT The kitchen is the nucl
Page 7 and 8: 7 DATA DISHWARE An alternative to t
Page 9: 9 WASTE BIN PROTOTYPE A foamcore mo
Page 12: 12 3. WATER USAGE The data visualiz
Page 15 and 16: 15 BIBLIOFILE GESTURE-POWERED READE
Page 17 and 18: or drag from text input words with
Page 19: SYNTHESIZING Various elements of Bi
Page 22 and 23: 22 MATERIALS AND TECHNOLOGY At left
Page 26 and 27: CAMERA FOR THE BLIND TANGIBLE INTER
Page 28 and 29: ITERATIVE PROTOTYPING Through a ser
Page 30 and 31: 1. SETUP THE PICTURE Rotating the o
Page 32 and 33: Nutrition Facts Serving Size 1 pain
Page 34 and 35: Nutrition Facts Serving Size 1 pain
Page 36: 36 FURNITURE / 2006-2009 / FURNITUR
Page 39 and 40: HAND-MADE SCULPTING WITH FILM 39
Page 42: nadeem.haidary@gmail.com www.nadeem

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