AVAILABLE Biker chick she got mad hustle and a dope soul poster

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4 min readMay 15, 2021

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Summer vacation for a month, people go on vacation, go to the mountains, go to the sea, and return home on the last day. Home for them is no longer the “foyer”, the “sweet home”, the nest, although it is very similar to the pigeon house as Lam Yutang said. I don’t understand if they read Lam’s book The Importance of Living, if they wanted to live in the East before their civilization was infected. I’m sure it does, which is why it’s on the “best seller” list in the US. Biker chick she got mad hustle and a dope soul poster After the river and river split in two, in the first ten years (1954–64), in the South alone, society did not change much, because everyone was worried about rebuilding. Only since more than half a million American troops poured into the South, did the society shake violently. At the beginning of chapter XXII, I talked about the calamity caused by the American soldiers just because they spent too much money, making their people corrupt, just like in China in the years 1945–49.

Biker chick she got mad hustle and a dope soul poster

It is this book, the book that you are holding in your hand right now. I remember the sunlight coming through the magnolia tree outside my office illuminating the scene at that moment: Paul sitting right in front of me, his beautiful hands completely motionless, with the bushy beard of a preacher. , dark eyes silently observe and evaluate me. In my memory, this picture is Vermeer1 quality, as sharp as in the dark box camera obscura2. I remember saying to myself, you have to remember this scene, because what’s on the retina right now is really precious. And because, given the circumstances of Paul’s illness, I was aware not only of his death but of my own. Biker chick she got mad hustle and a dope soul poster About six months ago, I started to lose weight and had severe back pain. When changing in the morning, the belt should be tightened one notch, then two. I went to see my primary doctor, an old classmate from Stanford. Her brother died suddenly while he was a resident in neurosurgery after ignoring the signs of a fatal infection, and so she took on the responsibility of monitoring my health, just like a word. form. However, when I got there, I met another doctor in the clinic — my other friend was on maternity leave.

I slept through breakfast and dragged through lunch only to stare at the plates filled with beancurd ragu and crab claws that I couldn’t swallow. By dinner time, I was exhausted and just wanted to go back to bed. Sometimes I read books to the kids, but most of the time they play around with me, dancing and screaming. (“Children, I think Uncle Paul needs a break. Why don’t you go over there and play?”) I remember the days off when I was a summer camp counselor fifteen years ago, sitting by the lake. Biker chick she got mad hustle and a dope soul poster Of all the mysteries of my childhood, the most mysterious was not why Dad decided to take the family to the desert town of Kingman, Arizona, which we fell in love with, but how. Dad convinced Mom to come here with me. With love, they have fled together around the world, from South India to New York City (father is Christian, mother is Hindu, their marriage is condemned from both sides and led to years of fracturing relationships — my grandmother never acknowledged my name, Paul, but insisted on calling me by my middle name, Sudhir), and to Arizona, where she was forced to face her terrors. be uncontrollable about snakes. Even the most harmless, cutest and smallest red racer snake can make her scream and rush into the house, where she will lock all the doors and arm herself with big, sharp weapons. be in the nearest place — a rake, a machete, or an ax.

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