Last fall, when it was starting to get incredibly cold, I read Ernest Hemingway’s “The Garden of Eden” and enamored with Hemingway’s description of the everyday lives of the David and Catherine Bourne. They spent their mornings writing, their afternoons swimming in coves, and their evenings eating delicious food and drinking. The story takes place in both the French Riviera and Spain– places where you can find nice swimming spots that aren’t brown, muddy, or downstream from drunk frat boys (ahem, James River, Richmond, Virginia… the water got suspiciously warm so my friends and I had to move).
for every oneAs I was looking at photos for a swimming/can it be summer already/1920′s round up, the story was on my mind…
“They were always hungry but they ate very well. They were hungry for breakfast which they ate at the café, ordering brioche and café au lait and eggs, and the type of preserve that they chose and the manner in which the eggs were to be cooked was an excitement.”
“She slipped out of bed and stood straight with her long brown legs and her beautiful body tanned evenly from the far beach where they swam without suits. She held her shoulders back and her chin up and she shook her head so her heavy tawny hair slapped around her cheeks and then bowed forward so it all fell forward and covered her face.”
“I never wanted to be a painter nor a writer until I came to this country. Now it’s just like being hungry all the time and there’s nothing you can ever do about it.”
“They went in together and swam out and then they played under water like porpoises. When they swam in they dried each other off with towels and he handed her the bottle of wine that was still cool in the rolled newspaper and they each took a drink and she looked at him and laughed.”
Photos sourced from here.
