Two men surf on a cresting wave.
Some people are surfing.
The men are snorkeling.
I had appropriate supervision while I was younger.
As if the sergeant, rather than his men, was the focal point of any future attack, he was watching Muller.
Two men are on a bridge looking at a large ship in the sea.
There are two people in the studio.
Those kinds of plants flower all the way through June, July and August.
I wish I had ordered roasted pigeon in Florence.