122 lines
6.7 KiB
JavaScript
122 lines
6.7 KiB
JavaScript
import { memo } from 'react';
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function DemoContent() {
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return (
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<div>
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<img
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src="assets/images/demo-content/morain-lake.jpg"
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alt="beach"
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style={{
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maxWidth: '640px',
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width: '100%',
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}}
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className="rounded-6"
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/>
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<h1 className="py-16 font-semibold">Early Sunrise</h1>
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<h4 className="pb-12 font-medium">Demo Content</h4>
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<p>
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One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in
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his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a
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little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff
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sections.
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</p>
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<blockquote>
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<p>
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The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any moment. His many
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legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as
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he looked. "What's happened to me? " he thought. It wasn't a dream.
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</p>
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<footer>John Doe</footer>
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</blockquote>
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<p>
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His room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four
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familiar walls. A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table - Samsa was a
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travelling salesman - and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an
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illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame.
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</p>
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<p>
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It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur
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muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer. Gregor then turned to look
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out the window at the dull weather. Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane, which
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made him feel quite sad.
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</p>
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<p>
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"How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this nonsense", he thought, but
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that was something he was unable to do because he was used to sleeping on his right, and in
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his present state couldn't get into that position. However hard he threw himself onto his
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right, he always rolled back to where he was.
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</p>
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<p>
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He must have tried it a hundred times, shut his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look at the
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floundering legs, and only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull pain there that he had
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never felt before. "Oh, God", he thought, "what a strenuous career it is that I've chosen!
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</p>
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<p>
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Travelling day in and day out. Doing business like this takes much more effort than doing
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your own business at home, and on top of that there's the curse of travelling, worries about
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making train connections, bad and irregular food, contact with different people all the time
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so that you can never get to know anyone or become friendly with them.
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</p>
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<p>
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"He felt a slight itch up on his belly; pushed himself slowly up on his back towards the
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headboard so that he could lift his head better; found where the itch was, and saw that it
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was covered with lots of little white spots which he didn't know what to make of; and when
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he tried to feel the place with one of his legs he drew it quickly back because as soon as
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he touched it he was overcome by a cold shudder. He slid back into his former position.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Getting up early all the time", he thought, "it makes you stupid. You've got to get enough
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sleep. Other travelling salesmen live a life of luxury. For instance, whenever I go back to
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the guest house during the morning to copy out the contract, these gentlemen are always
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still sitting there eating their breakfasts. I ought to just try that with my boss; I'd get
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kicked out on the spot. But who knows, maybe that would be the best thing for me...
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</p>
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<p>
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His room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four
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familiar walls. A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table - Samsa was a
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travelling salesman - and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an
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illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame.
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</p>
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<p>
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It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur
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muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer. Gregor then turned to look
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out the window at the dull weather. Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane, which
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made him feel quite sad.
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</p>
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<p>
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"How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this nonsense", he thought, but
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that was something he was unable to do because he was used to sleeping on his right, and in
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his present state couldn't get into that position. However hard he threw himself onto his
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right, he always rolled back to where he was.
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</p>
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<p>
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He must have tried it a hundred times, shut his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look at the
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floundering legs, and only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull pain there that he had
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never felt before. "Oh, God", he thought, "what a strenuous career it is that I've chosen!
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</p>
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<p>
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Travelling day in and day out. Doing business like this takes much more effort than doing
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your own business at home, and on top of that there's the curse of travelling, worries about
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making train connections, bad and irregular food, contact with different people all the time
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so that you can never get to know anyone or become friendly with them.
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</p>
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<p>
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"He felt a slight itch up on his belly; pushed himself slowly up on his back towards the
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headboard so that he could lift his head better; found where the itch was, and saw that it
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was covered with lots of little white spots which he didn't know what to make of; and when
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he tried to feel the place with one of his legs he drew it quickly back because as soon as
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he touched it he was overcome by a cold shudder. He slid back into his former position.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Getting up early all the time", he thought, "it makes you stupid. You've got to get enough
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sleep. Other travelling salesmen live a life of luxury. For instance, whenever I go back to
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the guest house during the morning to copy out the contract, these gentlemen are always
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still sitting there eating their breakfasts. I ought to just try that with my boss; I'd get
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kicked out on the spot. But who knows, maybe that would be the best thing for me...
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</p>
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</div>
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);
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}
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export default memo(DemoContent);
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