Getting Small, Living Large

I'm a carpenter by trade and usually carry an over abundance of dirt under my fingernails. But now, I find myself a writer in Paris, and have traded in my bag of hammers for a pen, or a Mac. My hands have never been softer. I'm thinking of changing my name to Madge. When Marie …

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In the horn honking competition, Parisians are second only to the Italians, followed by clowns, with Canadian geese and taxis rounding out the field. Parisian streets are thin. The city planners of the tenth century were a tad short-sighted on where things were going, the people were smaller and le Big Mac wasn't even a …

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World Cup finals is a finale and a first

It's 6 a.m. and that vat of fermented cabbage my Croat neighbours are preparing for the championship game is full of life. I'm sure it is the beginning of something wonderful and tastes better than it smells. I hope France become the champions, English champions, because in French, a champignon is a mushroom, and that …

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