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[BmillsSkier]

Fishing in SC

I can smell that picture.

[Supermoon]

[Ernest_Hemingway]

[nutmegchoi]

End of an era or new beginning?

[mcski]

Kinda sacrilegious.

Those baguettes look as cold and hard like the glass of the pyramid

[Not Neil_Armstrong]

This..... only 1 cup of joe in.
(Too tired to resize photo)

[Ernest_Hemingway]

Yesterday morning I was sitting in Luxembourg Garden, in one of the little green metal chairs, enjoying the sun and thinking about all the places in Paris where we had made our mistakes. I gazed at the tennis courts where I used to play with Ezra Pound. He was so uncompetitive about everything except poetry that I would serve the ball right at his head, hoping to hit him with a rocket and start a fire inside of him. Nearby were the busy petanque courts, where men went to get away from their wives and other petty tyrannies, to laugh and smoke and boast.

I dozed off in the warmth, and at some point a young woman approached to ask if she could use the chair next to me. She had long red hair, natural and lovely. Her face was perfectly symetrical and her smile spread across every corner of it. She wore a blue and green silk scarf, with a Monet / water lillies pattern that brought out extra color and sparkle in her eyes, and made her red hair even more fiery and alive.

Grateful for the chance to sit in the sunshine with a beautiful woman, I told her of course she could have the chair. She thanked me, then picked it up and carried it several yards away and placed it next to a young man. They leaned into each other, giggling at private jokes, young lovers snuggling in the Sunday sunshine of Luxembourg Garden.

I watched children riding the little rental ponies and studied the old fellow who followed the ponies around with a poop shovel and contemplated whether I would want such a job. We all have to scoop manure, afterall, whether it is literal or figurative. Doing it in the warm autumn sunshine under chestnut trees would be better than doing it in a factory or an office. I fell asleep again as I studied the movements of the shovel man. His scoop was enormous, and seemed outsized in comparison to the little ponies and their potential output. But the right tool is important for any job, whether you are a matador or a fighter pilot or a whore or a shit shoveler. No doubt he knew better than I which tool to carry.

A few minutes passed and I awoke to the sound of an abrupt scraping noise in the gravel. The lovely young redhead walked past me, wiping tears from her cheeks and sobbing to herself. Her smile and sparkle were gone. The sound had no doubt been her getting up quickly from her own green metal chair. She walked with purpose towards the Observatory, gaining speed and not looking back.

I glanced back at the young man and he looked away impassively. It was obvious he had said something hurtful or final, or both. I despised him for a moment. He made no move to go after her and I watched her disappear, vanishing into the distance without ever looking back.

Thus ended a sunny Sunday morning in Luxembourg Garden for one lovely young woman with a pretty smile and a Monet scarf.

[zion zig zag]

Nice. I’ll be staying near Luxembourg Gardens this weekend. Unfortunately it isn’t looking like park bench weather.


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[buttahflake]

If there are Tyrolias on those Pre's, you have a binding from each of the big four. Pretty impressive dumpster. What size are the ST's?

[jackstraw]

If there are Tyrolias on those Pre's, you have a binding from each of the big four. Pretty impressive dumpster. What size are the ST's?

Wonder about the solly ski too. I remember that speckled green and black base. Must be the newest of the bunch.

[Supermoon]

Nice. I’ll be staying near Luxembourg Gardens this weekend. Unfortunately it isn’t looking like park bench weather.


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Just left Paris this morning. 82 and sunny yesterday [emoji41]

[nutmegchoi]

[nutmegchoi]

If there are Tyrolias on those Pre's, you have a binding from each of the big four. Pretty impressive dumpster. What size are the ST's?

Buttah, I wish I could answer but I don’t know anything about ski.
I’m a snowboarder.

[MakersTeleMark]

I can only imagine what that view cost.

[AK47bp]

Buttah, I wish I could answer but I don’t know anything about ski.
I’m a snowboarder.

Hey now, things are going to be just fine. I have a couple friends that also snowboard and I can tell you this; It Gets Better. Keep your head up.

[dtown]

[JongDoe]

Yesterday morning I was sitting in Luxembourg Garden, in one of the little green metal chairs, enjoying the sun and thinking about all the places in Paris where we had made our mistakes. I gazed at the tennis courts where I used to play with Ezra Pound. He was so uncompetitive about everything except poetry that I would serve the ball right at his head, hoping to hit him with a rocket and start a fire inside of him. Nearby were the busy petanque courts, where men went to get away from their wives and other petty tyrannies, to laugh and smoke and boast.

I dozed off in the warmth, and at some point a young woman approached to ask if she could use the chair next to me. She had long red hair, natural and lovely. Her face was perfectly symetrical and her smile spread across every corner of it. She wore a blue and green silk scarf, with a Monet / water lillies pattern that brought out extra color and sparkle in her eyes, and made her red hair even more fiery and alive.

Grateful for the chance to sit in the sunshine with a beautiful woman, I told her of course she could have the chair. She thanked me, then picked it up and carried it several yards away and placed it next to a young man. They leaned into each other, giggling at private jokes, young lovers snuggling in the Sunday sunshine of Luxembourg Garden.

I watched children riding the little rental ponies and studied the old fellow who followed the ponies around with a poop shovel and contemplated whether I would want such a job. We all have to scoop manure, afterall, whether it is literal or figurative. Doing it in the warm autumn sunshine under chestnut trees would be better than doing it in a factory or an office. I fell asleep again as I studied the movements of the shovel man. His scoop was enormous, and seemed outsized in comparison to the little ponies and their potential output. But the right tool is important for any job, whether you are a matador or a fighter pilot or a whore or a shit shoveler. No doubt he knew better than I which tool to carry.

A few minutes passed and I awoke to the sound of an abrupt scraping noise in the gravel. The lovely young redhead walked past me, wiping tears from her cheeks and sobbing to herself. Her smile and sparkle were gone. The sound had no doubt been her getting up quickly from her own green metal chair. She walked with purpose towards the Observatory, gaining speed and not looking back.

I glanced back at the young man and he looked away impassively. It was obvious he had said something hurtful or final, or both. I despised him for a moment. He made no move to go after her and I watched her disappear, vanishing into the distance without ever looking back.

Thus ended a sunny Sunday morning in Luxembourg Garden for one lovely young woman with a pretty smile and a Monet scarf.

That is great writing, Did you write that yourself?

[detrusor]

Hemingway doesn’t practice plagiarism


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[The SnowShow]

Denver is glowing

[BmillsSkier]

11 on Fazio?

[dtown]

11 on Fazio?

Correct

[BmillsSkier]

Correct

I walked over there for drinks just last week.

I’ve also been in that sand more times than I can count trying to cut to the green.

[dtown]

I walked over there for drinks just last week.

I’ve also been in that sand more times than I can count trying to cut to the green.

My drive caught the far end of the left trap, from there caught the right green bunker. More sand than I've seen in a while.

[alias_rice]

Just left Paris this morning. 82 and sunny yesterday [emoji41]

Did you happen to see a pretty redhead in a scarf?

[Supermoon]

Did you happen to see a pretty redhead in a scarf?

Haha. Only about one an hour. People in Paris are prettier than they are in the states. Same for the Dutch.

Edit: if EH starts posting pics of old London pubs, in going to start thinking I have a Fight Club scenario going on.