“The Red Balloon” is a film of forlorn hope and past occurrences gone wrong.
Remember taking trips with friends or family? The ideal time, the perfect situation; they have an amazing ability to overshadow trials and efforts of the past where we wished to be somewhere else.
Taking an airlift to the east-indies where venture capitalists have established a full blown water park with ivy league school issue track surface grounds and walkways: paradise and disaster.
A cross race in august, paradise and disaster.
A sexy calendar of exotic visions in the booth of the air traffic controllers on a nuclear powered aircraft carrier.
Up for debate.
The point is, its happening. Ciclocross.
The reincarnation, the renaissance, the revival.
State militia in the form of a reemergence of motivated racers, enthusiasts, comrades in zeal.
What kicked off this years Cross campaign? Yesterday, around 1230pm, a B–2 Stealth bomber flew over boston. Those Assemblies cost this nation Billions, each. Why the spectacle? If it were passing through, it would be well above commercial flight altitude: out of view.
But what a site…Strange militaria alien borne.
If you didn’t see it, you heard the disturbance.
Cyclocross Is raging onward. Now. Already. Tell your lover that they will be sitting on the aft burners next to the Swedish meatball sausepac brewing in 2 fingers of rolling boil.