Well Addy I trust you will be pleased. Wren is asleep and I am attending dutifully to the updating of my deviant art journal. Let us all hope that with your continued inspiration I will be able to do so deligently and with happiness. I have always been a admirer of Ernest Hemingway. Although my literary tastes lead me often to neglect my love for the perusal of the dimly lit country roads of Hardy and the sardonic solitude of a handful of others I always come back to my dear dear Hemingway with the since of having been away much too long. For my hasty excuses and guilty apologies I know he cares not. Unlike the forgotten pages of Carson McCullers or the bubble gum prose of the latest and greatest New York Times Bestsellers Hemingway has no need for my critical eye or self recognition. Hemingway's fiction like the man himself, is a man in his own right. For Whom the Bell Tolls. I bought the book several years ago and have tried several times to read it. Getting used to the traditional spanish translated literally to english dialog, often proved too much for my wasted attention. I am older now. Alas, how have I been able to enjoy a cup of coffee before this book? What have I known of death? Have I ever really slept in a sleeping bag? Have I ever felt a shaved head? Don't ask- read.