Gueule de bois

(un poème écrit par Jack Schrupp)

J’allume une cigarette et respire profondément.

Le train est en retard ce matin.

J’allume une deuxième cigarette.

First of all, you are very welcome for the tasteful poem. Furthermore, I would like every one of you to know how excited I am to return to the Purple Valley (once Donald Trump is securely in office) to be part of the greatness that is Williams Skiing. My time away has made me realize how fortunate I am to be a part of such a program, and I urge you all to cherish every moment you spend together. That being said, have fun studying dweebs! Know that while you are swimming in a frothy sea of lab reports and problem sets I am doing the backstroke in a pool of baguettes. I have, contrary to popular belief, been notching some most excellent training hours in the stomping grounds of Maurice Manificat (I even chase Martin Fourcade around on roller-skis). I also eat a lot of chocolate . . . like a lot of chocolate. Bref, thinking of you all !

Au revoir from Ibiza . . . I mean France.

Bizous,

Jack

Sheep Hill, is that you?