[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.To those looking on anxiously, the club pointing up might have seemed like a spiraling up staircase.Arjuna looked to be pointing a direct path to the high holy gates.To others, his finish may have looked as if someone were holding up a sword, beckoning all comers to try and test him.It only ended for him with the sudden realization that this psychic trauma was over.He stayed in his follow through position.The young-again Arjuna remain posed or beautifully suspended.He wanted to make sure a lesson had indeed been learned.He felt the youth could benefit from this awesome display of power.Then the moment came when all had time enough to study his swing and take good note.Arjuna brought the club down.He rested it against his left shoulder.The old man did this, though not before allowing photographers their time needed to record, for tomorrow's headlines say, this memorable head-to-head.10Back onto this hard-matter existence, curiously referred to as a type of present, Arjuna had bowled a googly.In this one reality, hard and physical, the old man had hit a Jerry Ford crowd-ducker into the first shoots of flowers.He had sclaffed the ground hard at impact and the ball left the tee lead-like.It looked shot from a country-made pistol.It had taken off in what is commonly termed as plain ugly.The ball had gone stem-skimming.It had ignored the lake or problem area referred to astutely by game regulators as a water hazard.The ball had appeared to search hastily for a reasonable spot to exit.This was in contrast to its earlier incarnation back on the tee as one cool customer.It had scurried off into the sidelined marginalia as a vacationist.It went into an area not far off the mound.The ball had gone into a place where it looked like hay was kept.The old man’s swing did finish high.His arms twisted up in his trademark corkscrew.He had on an expression that was a true collector’s item.Arjuna looked to where his ball had gone with a mixture of relief and some stark disbelief.He understood it had gone into a nearby maze of tall flowers.His drive had fallen short of his high hopes for it.Suddenly he called after the shot with renewed gusto."May you reincarnate as a two-toed, pod-shod Gujarati camel!" he said.Nicolas, with a clenched fist he held quaking around his mouth, resisted laughing outright.Then a smile did break through.His grin showed where before it had been strictly forbidden.The old man smiled too.He understood well the precarious nature of participating on this plane of existence.Arjuna was filled then with the feeling of outright humility.The youth broke loose.Nicolas burst out laughing without regard on how it might be perceived.Arjuna turned to him.The old man said in mock-apology for his comment over a well-known ornery Indian camel, "Forgive me, friend."Arjuna took this chance to play-act more.He did this for the youth's enjoyment, as well as for his ever-present vast army.He returned the clubhead to the ground.He did this in a resigning gesture.Arjuna shook his head in performed disbelief.He went on to his act's next logical conclusion.He tapped down the ground that had strangely popped up.Arjuna knocked back the dreaming tufts of grass.The old man followed this with his brand of humor over a ball that had clearly gone missing."Is it gone?" he cracked, and the youth laughed until a trail of tears came to make him stop."Yeah," Nicolas managed, adding the needless.Arjuna stepped forward once.His pant leg was given one final hike as if this was the thing missing from his earlier preparations.This was followed fast by a deep-knee bend.The old man swiped across the grass with his free hand.He picked up the remains of the tee.He flicked the mortally wounded thing off to the side with performed disdain.He looked to the youth for confirmation that all was well and good up here and smiled.Nicolas went along gladly with the old man.He laughed while appearing to cry also.His infectious smile, along with the youth’s good humor, turned each to enjoying life with laughter.Both shrugged.But then, gravely, what came to Nicolas next was the realization that it was now his turn to play.He understood the moment to start here, in India's northern reaches, had now arrived.Inside the fright sense came to him then as butterflies in the thousands.This tryst with the terror feeling did not come alone [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl trzylatki.xlx.pl
.To those looking on anxiously, the club pointing up might have seemed like a spiraling up staircase.Arjuna looked to be pointing a direct path to the high holy gates.To others, his finish may have looked as if someone were holding up a sword, beckoning all comers to try and test him.It only ended for him with the sudden realization that this psychic trauma was over.He stayed in his follow through position.The young-again Arjuna remain posed or beautifully suspended.He wanted to make sure a lesson had indeed been learned.He felt the youth could benefit from this awesome display of power.Then the moment came when all had time enough to study his swing and take good note.Arjuna brought the club down.He rested it against his left shoulder.The old man did this, though not before allowing photographers their time needed to record, for tomorrow's headlines say, this memorable head-to-head.10Back onto this hard-matter existence, curiously referred to as a type of present, Arjuna had bowled a googly.In this one reality, hard and physical, the old man had hit a Jerry Ford crowd-ducker into the first shoots of flowers.He had sclaffed the ground hard at impact and the ball left the tee lead-like.It looked shot from a country-made pistol.It had taken off in what is commonly termed as plain ugly.The ball had gone stem-skimming.It had ignored the lake or problem area referred to astutely by game regulators as a water hazard.The ball had appeared to search hastily for a reasonable spot to exit.This was in contrast to its earlier incarnation back on the tee as one cool customer.It had scurried off into the sidelined marginalia as a vacationist.It went into an area not far off the mound.The ball had gone into a place where it looked like hay was kept.The old man’s swing did finish high.His arms twisted up in his trademark corkscrew.He had on an expression that was a true collector’s item.Arjuna looked to where his ball had gone with a mixture of relief and some stark disbelief.He understood it had gone into a nearby maze of tall flowers.His drive had fallen short of his high hopes for it.Suddenly he called after the shot with renewed gusto."May you reincarnate as a two-toed, pod-shod Gujarati camel!" he said.Nicolas, with a clenched fist he held quaking around his mouth, resisted laughing outright.Then a smile did break through.His grin showed where before it had been strictly forbidden.The old man smiled too.He understood well the precarious nature of participating on this plane of existence.Arjuna was filled then with the feeling of outright humility.The youth broke loose.Nicolas burst out laughing without regard on how it might be perceived.Arjuna turned to him.The old man said in mock-apology for his comment over a well-known ornery Indian camel, "Forgive me, friend."Arjuna took this chance to play-act more.He did this for the youth's enjoyment, as well as for his ever-present vast army.He returned the clubhead to the ground.He did this in a resigning gesture.Arjuna shook his head in performed disbelief.He went on to his act's next logical conclusion.He tapped down the ground that had strangely popped up.Arjuna knocked back the dreaming tufts of grass.The old man followed this with his brand of humor over a ball that had clearly gone missing."Is it gone?" he cracked, and the youth laughed until a trail of tears came to make him stop."Yeah," Nicolas managed, adding the needless.Arjuna stepped forward once.His pant leg was given one final hike as if this was the thing missing from his earlier preparations.This was followed fast by a deep-knee bend.The old man swiped across the grass with his free hand.He picked up the remains of the tee.He flicked the mortally wounded thing off to the side with performed disdain.He looked to the youth for confirmation that all was well and good up here and smiled.Nicolas went along gladly with the old man.He laughed while appearing to cry also.His infectious smile, along with the youth’s good humor, turned each to enjoying life with laughter.Both shrugged.But then, gravely, what came to Nicolas next was the realization that it was now his turn to play.He understood the moment to start here, in India's northern reaches, had now arrived.Inside the fright sense came to him then as butterflies in the thousands.This tryst with the terror feeling did not come alone [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]