 Poster: A snowHead
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It was my final ski holiday, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia as I packed my bags. I had been coming to this quaint mountain village for years, and the thought of never returning filled me with a sense of loss.
As I made my way up the mountain, I couldn't help but notice the changes that had occurred over the years. The once-pristine slopes were now dotted with luxury chalets and high-end restaurants. The simple pleasures of the past had been replaced with a sense of commercialism and excess.
Despite these changes, I couldn't help but feel a sense of joy as I glided down the slopes. The crisp mountain air and the breathtaking views reminded me of why I had fallen in love with skiing in the first place.
As the days passed, I found myself becoming increasingly reflective. I couldn't help but think about the fleeting nature of life and how quickly things can change. I realized that this ski holiday would be the last of its kind for me, and that my time on the mountain was coming to an end.
On my final day, I woke up early and made my way to the top of the mountain. As I looked out at the panoramic view, I felt a sense of peace. I knew that this holiday would always hold a special place in my heart, and that the memories I had made here would stay with me forever.
With a heavy heart, I made my way down the mountain for the last time. As I packed my bags and said goodbye to the village, I couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness. But I also knew that my time on the mountain had come to an end, and that it was time to move on to new adventures.
This final ski holiday had been a beautiful and bittersweet experience, one that I would always treasure.
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ok not exactly a page turner
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Obviously A snowHead isn't a real person
Obviously A snowHead isn't a real person
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An oil painting of a skier doing a backflip at sunset in the style of JMW Turner
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Well, the person's real but it's just a made up name, see?
Well, the person's real but it's just a made up name, see?
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With all that “I couldn’t help but” shouldn’t there be more mention of men and Manolos?
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You need to Login to know who's really who.
You need to Login to know who's really who.
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| Dave of the Marmottes wrote: |
An oil painting of a skier doing a backflip at sunset in the style of JMW Turner
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I'm almost tempted to get a framed full size version of that.
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Anyway, snowHeads is much more fun if you do.
Anyway, snowHeads is much more fun if you do.
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Six ' I couldn't help's
Six 'a sense of's
Three 'made my way's
Computers are good at repetitive tasks.
Last edited by Anyway, snowHeads is much more fun if you do. on Wed 25-01-23 15:08; edited 1 time in total
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You'll need to Register first of course.
You'll need to Register first of course.
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Sounds a bit helpless.
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@davidof, have you read much Anita Brookner?
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'On the white below George dipped and rose and dipped out of sight. The rush and the sudden swoop as he dropped down a steep undulation in the mountain side plucked Nick's mind out and left him only the wonderful flying, dropping sensation in his body. He rose to a slight up-run and then the snow seemed to drop out from under him as he went down, down, faster and faster in a rush down the last, long steep slope. Crouching so he was almost sitting back on his skis, trying to keep the center of gravity low, the snow driving like a sand-storm, he knew the pace was too much. But he held it. He would not let go and spill. Then a patch of soft snow, left in a hollow by the wind, spilled him and he went over and over in a clashing of skis, feeling like a shot rabbit, then stuck, his legs crossed, his skis sticking straight up and his nose and ears jammed full of snow. .... Nick Adams came up past George, big back and blond head still faintly snowy, then his skis started slipping at the edge and he swooped down, hissing in the crystalline powder snow and seeming to float up and drop down as he went up and down the billowing khuds. He held to his left and at the end, as he rushed toward the fence, keeping his knees locked tight together and turning his body like tightening a screw brought his skis sharply around to the right in a smother of snow and slowed into a loss of speed parallel to the hillside and the wire fence. He looked up the hill. George was coming down in Telemark position, kneeling; one leg forward and bent, the other trailing; his sticks hanging like some insect's thin legs, kicking up puffs of snow as they touched the surface and finally the whole kneeling, trailing figure coming around in a beautiful right curve, crouching, the legs shot forward and back, the body leaning out against the swing, the sticks accenting the curve like points of light, all in a wild cloud of snow.
From Hemingway's 'Cross Country Snow'. I gather he was a keen skier.
I'd be interested to seeing something in the style of Cormac McCarthy.
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You'll get to see more forums and be part of the best ski club on the net.
You'll get to see more forums and be part of the best ski club on the net.
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| Hurtle wrote: |
| @davidof, have you read much Anita Brookner? |
Hotel du lac
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| LaForet wrote: |
I'd be interested to seeing something in the style of Cormac McCarthy. |
I'm sure ChatGPT would produce more repetitive generic drivel. It seems ideal for replacing 90% of churnalism or the stuff company HR departments send by email these days.
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snowHeads are a friendly bunch.
snowHeads are a friendly bunch.
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| Quote: |
I'd be interested to seeing something in the style of Cormac McCarthy.
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Set the 'Bleakness' and 'Libertarian Rhetoric' sliders all the way to the right, and any joy, compassion, and punctuation sliders all the way down to the left... et voila!
Play about with the 'uncontested racism' slider a bit and you can probably generate OneGlove posts off the same settings.
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