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I was cleaning up my apartment and purging myself of the unwanted items in life, when, as I was going through my books, I came across Hemingway's, "A Moveable Feast". Naturally this did not get tossed, but it reminded me that I had never finished reading it. I realize this is something of a crime considering that it's regarded by many to be the author's greatest work.       When I sat down to read some of it later that evening, the receipt from Moe's Books in Berkeley fell out. I glanced at it and was bemused at the fact I had purchased this used copy July 8, 1999. So, here it is, nearly seven years to the date that I start to read it again. Ironic really that the time matched up so well, but as is such, things like this tend to happen.       I have realized one of the reasons I didn't get through it was that I was far too young (22 actually) to appreciate it. A funny thought, since Hemingway at was 21 at the time the events took place in Paris, although he was writing it much later in life. Of course, this is a man who had been through WWI early in his life, while I was trying to remember to breath during my first year at UC Berkeley.       It also seems that the book makes considerable more sense and has a greater appeal when you've actually been to Paris. Not that the locations of text and reality completely match up, but you do have a better sense of the setting and don't picture the Eiffel Tower and bread, but long winding European streets and a much, much different attitude than the US.