On Thursday afternoon, my dad called me up with the strangest, least expected proposal I had had all week: to go play golf with him. And so, being a fan both of my dad and of unusual things to do, go play golf I did.
Golf, it turns out, isn’t really my thing: too much heavy equipment to lug around, too much hand-eye coordination required when operating said heavy equipment and too few successful shots (hits? strokes?), therefore not much excitement, resulting from the lack of said eye-hand coordination.
Besides, as it turns out, golf course turfs* and their surroundings provide very photogenic surfaces.
*I have waited over a decade to use the word turf in a proper sentence, since I learned it in college when my favorite and most frequented bar was called the Turf Club (Hi, Phillipe, Dylan, Adam, Rino, Kelly and Dechen!).