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"Let's have another one before we part. Put up your money; it's no good here. This one's on Western City." I saw that it was not going to be possible to drive through the jam, so I put my car in a parking place, and set out for the City Hall on foot. On the way I observed that the invitation of the "Times" had been accepted; the Brigade had taken possession of the town.
A monk was raking leaves from a path that curved around the pond like a trotter's track. Joe got out, stretched, and entered a gift shop by the parking lot. A middle aged woman seated next to the cash register closed her book. "Where is everybody? Rehearsing?" She smiled slightly and remained silent. "Lovely day," Joe said. "Yes, isn't it." He bought a cassette made by the monks.
The general harmony does not preclude, but rather comes of, the greatest variety of individual character. Herein the English village strikingly differs from the typical New England village, where the charm comes of a prim uniformity, and individuality is made to give place to a general parking of lawns and shade-trees in rectangular blocks and avenues.
A TV forecaster in a truck stop spoke of the first winter storm. Lucky Oliver. The windshield wipers worked well, though, and the rain let up as he eased into a parking area on a rocky headland. The Devil's Churn. No one else was there. It was 10:05. He put his head back and closed his eyes.
In turn the representatives of each people stood and resumed their seat, the music underlining their individuality and parking them in sections, even as rivalry had parked them in the Stadium.
He also wanted to be a Guru, told me so in a UCSD parking lot. But cool guy. Powerful attention level. Controls every situation impeccably. cares about others what seems to be an enormous amount. Yet detached. cold. warm. whatever he was projecting. A master illusionist. Created/s dreams & realities with the flick of a wrist.
The entry continues, "By driving to a free lot in Arlington, parking, and bicycling the remaining 7-8 miles... save $100/month; instill spirit back in me; get exercise & strength; pass Harvard & MIT daily for brain power; bike around Boston lunch time. meet girls at Faneuil Hall; be independent, mobile, self-reliant!"
At a respectable distance from the woods near the shore where Pee-wee stood was a sizable village, or young town, big enough to have traffic signs and parking zones and a main street and a movie show and such like pretentious things. Between this town and the shore were a few outlying houses, but mostly sparse woodland. To the north the woods were thicker.
And reaching the little rise of ground that lay between the clubhouse and the parking field, she stood still, looking off across the exquisite spread of fields and valleys, banded by great strips of woods, and flooded now by the streaming shadows and golden lights of the late afternoon. "What a day!" she said, filling her lungs with great breaths of the sweet air. "What an hour!"
But this conference would change things. Morely smiled slowly as he thought of possible ways of shading the odds. He looked ahead. Commuters were streaming in from the peninsula now, to make for the factory parking lots. His face tightened a little. Why, he wondered, had the Old Man decided to call the conference at this hour? He could have delayed a little, until commuter traffic was less heavy.
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