Last Cat On Mars Presents: Folympic Ffencing 2016

Do I remember a late Friday night, early Saturday morning, circa 1981, when a young man and myself fenced our way up the hill at Rosalie, fallen palm fronds for our epees, silliness our favourite feeling as we danced through the night? Why, yes, I do, and I sometimes wonder where that young man ended up, apart from decades older. Well, actually, I know, and I also know that we’ll always have that Friday-Saturday in Rosalie, and I certainly hope the palm fronds recovered well. Touche, Michael.

Fencers with cheer squad and carpenter with saw who's come to build a chicken coop (he has the wrong 'foil')

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