To me the sails are billowing astern and the oarsmen are trying to propel the ship forward. This reminds me of recurring nightmares where I return to the school, base, or factory and try but cannot change directions away from disaster. Oh reminder of trauma past!
I don’t care how good the food may be, I plan to avoid that restaurant.
To me the sails are billowing astern and the oarsmen are trying to propel the ship forward. This reminds me of recurring nightmares where I return to the school, base, or factory and try but cannot change directions away from disaster. Oh reminder of trauma past!
I don’t care how good the food may be, I plan to avoid that restaurant.
One wouldn’t necessarily feel inspired to shout “I’m the King of the World!” while standing on the poop deck.
“King of the World Bistro” does have a sort of ring to it, though.