Word: pearlies
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...dies in her womb. The only human being who reaches out a hand to her is a prostitute. As the two women stand side by side on a ship headed for Palestine, the injured adolescent suddenly says to the fallen woman, "What I'd like now is a pear." That is all that is left of desire in Tzili, and even the pear is not forthcoming...
...candles and Waterford chandeliers, buffalo steaks, Texas chili and Italian cheese, Taos Indian drums, underwater cameras, solid-fuel rockets, night-vision goggles, woks, socks, building blocks, coffee roasters, toasters, coasters, cashmere sweaters, G strings, food processors, wine vinegar, wine racks and wine-flavored toothpaste, pineapple peelers, electronic potato parers, pear trees, frozen pheasants, silver stirrups, golden everything, robot chess partners, posters, potholders, the world's plumpest peanuts, jelly beans, ice cream machines, pushbutton card shufflers, 30 types of angel fish, fat-farm vacations, exquisite tools, 2,250-ft. balls of twine, doormats, decanters and dark glasses for dogs...
Nestled in the grey-green Monadnock mountains of New Hampshire, there's a place--let's call it Pear valley-- where people gather during the summer to play chamber music and lose their virginity. Not quite a music camp, and certainly not a bunny farm, it defies conventional classification. Ask any of its devoted alumni (and there are dozens at Harvard) what it is, and you'll get a dreamy look and something like, "Oh, it's just magical. We went skinnydipping and played the Mendelsohn Octet until 4 a.m. Like, it's the most amazing experience I've ever...
...teachers and coaches were a group of talented Julliard and Oberlin graduates who had escaped the rigors of New York competition to find themselves and true musical integrity in the woods. In the winters they taught part time at local colleges, and some played in the Pear Valley Ensemble, a fairly well-known chamber music outfit, which tours New England regularly. Mostly pushing 35, these nature loving artistes compensated for varying degrees of career frustration by clinging to remnants of their adolescence...
...might have spent most evenings with a bed mate and explanations for why the Kenne police might be calling to follow up on the night John forgot his driver's license. But the best way to give the old folks a chuckle and a sense of the sprit of Pear Valley was a tour of the women's John...