Page 19
As soon as the first turns staggering, an indomitable impatience invades its body. Its mouth pronounces unalterably the same query: "Please Maman, let me drop before the church. "And always the doubt in the head of the brunette woman. "Is it sensible, the let down, alone, on this route? "
In the mirror, the eyes of Alexis rounded of wonder and his nostrils dilate while his legs hammer the driver's seat. Then, still, it yields. The car brakes and stops. He has won a few hundreds of meters! Pleased with his small victory, it s an extract of the passenger compartment of the car, fact slamming the door of a noise sec. Of the glass lowered, her mother serine the latest recommendations. Already, is no longer listening. An intoxicating feeling gripped his body, making emerge from the water at the surface of its eyes. A oceanic joy exalts its sense, before him a horizon without end responsible for blue. He would like to drink which offers itself to him, get drunk of this blue or well stay sober and keep intact, in memory, vision, odours and noises. In a first time, it remains stationary to restore the tranquillity and let disappear the car. Once this parasite audible and visual disappeared, it pushes a sharp cry of Conqueror. In the far distance, the vast sea embraces a blue sky which acid emanates a sparkling light which it burns the retina. Near the coast, the sea more limpid leaves see its treasures. It distinguishes the rocks that the live, the sand banks and the colonies of algae that live there. Festoons of whitish scum marks the demarcation between the sea and the earth. He likes this panoramic domination. At the time his pulse is calm, it inspires at length, leaving the clean air iodized, seep into the smallest alveoli. The Aromatic keys of thyme ensoleillent his head, the amber fragrance of rockrose awakens his memory. And its legs are dérouillent; it then begins to run on the road in yaw which lets discover another vision at every turn.
In some valleys, the laurels fuchsia pink spread in cascade. More in height, the flowers of genets punctuate of yellow, orange of the earth. Of antediluvian walls, witnesses secular, built in dry stone draw terraces, where trees victims of the fury of the winds are looking to better see the sea. Arrived at the level of the small white church and the tower of jagged, it stops and sign. A thought for his fleeting, but sincere. It stops its running and walking, placing themselves at the edge of the road, as he has recommended its mother. The sun, already high in the sky hits the earth, and pours out of the water of its pores. The detour of another cornering, facing him, the houses in first line stand at the edge of the cliff. Behind them, their congeners jostle each other, are entangled in a meander of stairs and terraces supported by gigantic vaults. This aggregate of white Coruscant is the village of the old man with the red boat, his friend the fisherman. He will see tomorrow, it is promised. And if the wind is still Asleep, then they will go fishing. But the high mountain behind the village darkens to a cupola of clouds. His nostrils smell the wind which rises. The Sea more close leaves see streaks moiré. The invisible air ébouriffe his hair and refreshes its walk.
A group of black crows dance a aerial ballet, followed by a troupe of white dove. It is funny, they cohabit and share the scene, with harmony. The wind is reinforced and whistles to his ears a melody that announces that it wakes up for good and that the fishery will not take place. His body is offset by jerking, gusts multiply the speed of its not, approximate the minutes of his arrival. It reached the point of the journey that he loves, the one of the last view of the Whole, where the two rival bays are exposed to its eyes. He knows, soon a single will come out the winner and will offer to him: the Siena, which he knows every nook and cranny, that of the House to the blue shutters. Fragments of balafrent waves the smoothness of the sea which takes a metallic sheen. Its eyes are magnetized by this show mesmerizing. Now, the asperities grow, second after second. The striations shifting condense and an abundant foam covers the vastness of the water. The undertow thunders and crashing crystalline lens of the fracture of the rolls on the rocks accompanies its latest not. On the beach beaten by the waves, the wet sand is constelle of small holes where the trapped air escapes. His shoes y leave fingerprints deep. The bottom of the sea roars of sounds in cluster that indicate the presence of rollers. A smell of algae and shellfish sweetens the air. Tingling point at the end of his language, the happiness is there. The house with the blue shutters is to scope of view. The holiday begins.
The she-wolf was remained a long time stationary to observe the decline of the night. She was sitting on a large stone dominating the valley, his gaze of amber clouded by fear. It would have had to flee, as its male, quit this territory cursed. Of the men were come in large numbers, they had found the cave where were hidden its small and had captured... There were so many memories here: those of the hunts, the pack, seasons always renewed, the smell of the ibex, chamois and wild boar, the mad race of hares, the slab, the songs of birds, the cries of the chocards and marmots, the visit of the eagles and the bearded vulture... the softness of the mélézin in autumn, the agitation lovers... They were not going to delay to arrive. The gendarmes had prevented the standby: "Tomorrow, you will need to leave, it remains more than you; "Pierre was again prevailed, he had answered "rather die! "Before going to shut himself up in the discount where it came out more since a week. Marthe had resigned. She had not hesitated for a very long time to make his baggage. They were poor... old and poor. Everything that she had held in a trunk that his father had manufactured in the Larch, a larch centenary Struck by Lightning above the pastures. Already, the bulldozers were start their engine. In a few hours, there would be nothing left of the village. As of departures, the houses were destroyed. Take the clock also, do not leave them... The small Mandarine that I peeled this morning, I told him that it was beautiful. It is true that she was beautiful, dressed in a bright orange, with its small blue label who spoke of wilderness areas of Africa, Jamaica or of the South of Spain. I told him bluntly that it came from very far for not much, and that I was going to the strip for the Gobble. It which has pushed quiet under the sun with her girlfriends between sheets refreshing, of the Amours teenage girls, human beings who the caress and breathe its perfume lemon, powder sometimes in the evening, when it has done too hot. A lifetime of sweets and of attentions. The small Mandarine frightening in the hands of a man who takes to install in a large basket and who dream of adventures but who does not know the secret of its destination: a sauce for a game, the hands of a child who the fiddles with all afternoon and which the spits on the dog, a last small bride in the mouth of a sick who only supports its freshness exotic and which blew its pulp tender in its toothless mouth and me, this morning who me back on it and who reinvent the strip-tease, in the sticking to hair methodically, I discovers its small neighborhoods of armoured, juice of half-moons fed by the lullaby of the sun, soft As the skin of my sister... as small breasts, as Love. Her dress fell on the carpet. My small planet Orange, TE that is any naked, thank you for coming, thank you for everything. I put a whole in my mouth, a thunder of tastes, travel, cosmic visions, Summers far from here, I swallowed his soul of tangerine and its small lunar body, I have As soon as the first turns staggering, an indomitable impatience invades its body. Its mouth pronounces unalterably the same query: "Please Maman, let me drop before the church. "And always the doubt in the head of the brunette woman. "Is it sensible, the let down, alone, on this route? " In the mirror, the eyes of Alexis rounded of wonder and his nostrils dilate while his legs hammer the driver's seat. Then, still, it yields. The car brakes and stops. He has won a few hundreds of meters! Pleased with his small victory, it s an extract of the passenger compartment of the car, fact slamming the door of a noise sec. Of the glass lowered, her mother serine the latest recommendations. Already, is no longer listening. An intoxicating feeling gripped his body, making emerge from the water at the surface of its eyes. A oceanic joy exalts its sense, before him a horizon without end responsible for blue. He would like to drink which offers itself to him, get drunk of this blue or well stay sober and keep intact, in memory, vision, odours and noises. In a first time, it remains stationary to restore the tranquillity and let disappear the car. Once this parasite audible and visual disappeared, it pushes a sharp cry of Conqueror. In the far distance, the vast sea embraces a blue sky which acid emanates a sparkling light which it burns the retina. Near the coast, the sea more limpid leaves see its treasures. It distinguishes the rocks that the live, the sand banks and the colonies of algae that live there. Festoons of whitish scum marks the demarcation between the sea and the earth. He likes this panoramic domination. At the time his pulse is calm, it inspires at length, leaving the clean air iodized, seep into the smallest alveoli. The Aromatic keys of thyme ensoleillent his head, the amber fragrance of rockrose awakens his memory. And its legs are dérouillent; it then begins to run on the road in yaw which lets discover another vision at every turn.
In some valleys, the laurels fuchsia pink spread in cascade. More in height, the flowers of genets punctuate of yellow, orange of the earth. Of antediluvian walls, witnesses secular, built in dry stone draw terraces, where trees victims of the fury of the winds are looking to better see the sea. Arrived at the level of the small white church and the tower of jagged, it stops and sign. A thought for his fleeting, but sincere. It stops its running and walking, placing themselves at the edge of the road, as he has recommended its mother. The sun, already high in the sky hits the earth, and pours out of the water of its pores. The detour of another cornering, facing him, the houses in first line stand at the edge of the cliff. Behind them, their congeners jostle each other, are entangled in a meander of stairs and terraces supported by gigantic vaults. This aggregate of white Coruscant is the village of the old man with the red boat, his friend the fisherman. He will see tomorrow, it is promised. And if the wind is still Asleep, then they will go fishing. But the high mountain behind the village darkens to a cupola of clouds. His nostrils smell the wind which rises. The Sea more close leaves see streaks moiré. The invisible air ébouriffe his hair and refreshes its walk.
A group of black crows dance a aerial ballet, followed by a troupe of white dove. It is funny, they cohabit and share the scene, with harmony. The wind is reinforced and whistles to his ears a melody that announces that it wakes up for good and that the fishery will not take place. His body is offset by jerking, gusts multiply the speed of its not, approximate the minutes of his arrival. It reached the point of the journey that he loves, the one of the last view of the Whole, where the two rival bays are exposed to its eyes. He knows, soon a single will come out the winner and will offer to him: the Siena, which he knows every nook and cranny, that of the House to the blue shutters. Fragments of balafrent waves the smoothness of the sea which takes a metallic sheen. Its eyes are magnetized by this show mesmerizing. Now, the asperities grow, second after second. The striations shifting condense and an abundant foam covers the vastness of the water. The undertow thunders and crashing crystalline lens of the fracture of the rolls on the rocks accompanies its latest not. On the beach beaten by the waves, the wet sand is constelle of small holes where the trapped air escapes. His shoes y leave fingerprints deep. The bottom of the sea roars of sounds in cluster that indicate the presence of rollers. A smell of algae and shellfish sweetens the air. Tingling point at the end of his language, the happiness is there. The house with the blue shutters is to scope of view. The holiday begins. The she-wolf was remained a long time stationary to observe the decline of the night. She was sitting on a large stone dominating the valley, his gaze of amber clouded by fear. It would have had to flee, as its male, quit this territory cursed. Of the men were come in large numbers, they had found the cave where were hidden its small and had captured... There were so many memories here: those of the hunts, the pack, seasons always renewed, the smell of the ibex, chamois and wild boar, the mad race of hares, the slab, the songs of birds, the cries of the chocards and marmots, the visit of the eagles and the bearded vulture... the softness of the mélézin in autumn, the agitation lovers... They were not going to delay to arrive. The gendarmes had prevented the standby: "Tomorrow, you will need to leave, it remains more than you; "Pierre was again prevailed, he had answered "rather die! "Before going to shut himself up in the discount where it came out more since a week. Marthe had resigned. She had not hesitated for a very long time to make his baggage. They were poor... old and poor. Everything that she had held in a trunk that his father had manufactured in the Larch, a larch centenary Struck by Lightning above the pastures. Already, the bulldozers were start their engine. In a few hours, there would be nothing left of the village. As of departures, the houses were destroyed. Take the clock also, do not leave them... The small Mandarine that I peeled this morning, I told him that it was beautiful. It is true that she was beautiful, dressed in a bright orange, with its small blue label who spoke of wilderness areas of Africa, Jamaica or of the South of Spain. I told him bluntly that it came from very far for not much, and that I was going to the strip for the Gobble. It which has pushed quiet under the sun with her girlfriends between sheets refreshing, of the Amours teenage girls, human beings who the caress and breathe its perfume lemon, powder sometimes in the evening, when it has done too hot. A lifetime of sweets and of attentions. The small Mandarine frightening in the hands of a man who takes to install in a large basket and who dream of adventures but who does not know the secret of its destination: a sauce for a game, the hands of a child who the fiddles with all afternoon and which the spits on the dog, a last small bride in the mouth of a sick who only supports its freshness exotic and which blew its pulp tender in its toothless mouth and me, this morning who me back on it and who reinvent the strip-tease, in the sticking to hair methodically, I discovers its small neighborhoods of armoured, juice of half-moons fed by the lullaby of the sun, soft As the skin of my sister... as small breasts, as Love. Her dress fell on the carpet. My small planet Orange, TE that is any naked, thank you for coming, thank you for everything. I put a whole in my mouth, a thunder of tastes, travel, cosmic visions, Summers far from here, I swallowed his soul of tangerine and its small lunar body, I have As soon as the first turns staggering, an indomitable impatience invades its body. Its mouth pronounces unalterably the same query: "Please Maman, let me drop before the church. "And always the doubt in the head of the brunette woman. "Is it sensible, the let down, alone, on this route? "
In the mirror, the eyes of Alexis rounded of wonder and his nostrils dilate while his legs hammer the driver's seat. Then, still, it yields. The car brakes and stops. He has won a few hundreds of meters! Pleased with his small victory, it s an extract of the passenger compartment of the car, fact slamming the door of a noise sec. Of the glass lowered, her mother serine the latest recommendations. Already, is no longer listening. An intoxicating feeling gripped his body, making emerge from the water at the surface of its eyes. A oceanic joy exalts its sense, before him a horizon without end responsible for blue. He would like to drink which offers itself to him, get drunk of this blue or well stay sober and keep intact, in memory, vision, odours and noises. In a first time, it remains stationary to restore the tranquillity and let disappear the car. Once this parasite audible and visual disappeared, it pushes a sharp cry of Conqueror. In the far distance, the vast sea embraces a blue sky which acid emanates a sparkling light which it burns the retina. Near the coast, the sea more limpid leaves see its treasures. It distinguishes the rocks that the live, the sand banks and the colonies of algae that live there. Festoons of whitish scum marks the demarcation between the sea and the earth. He likes this panoramic domination. At the time his pulse is calm, it inspires at length, leaving the clean air iodized, seep into the smallest alveoli. The Aromatic keys of thyme ensoleillent his head, the amber fragrance of rockrose awakens his memory. And its legs are dérouillent; it then begins to run on the road in yaw which lets discover another vision at every turn. In some valleys, the laurels fuchsia pink spread in cascade. More in height, the flowers of genets punctuate of yellow, orange of the earth. Of antediluvian walls, witnesses secular, built in dry stone draw terraces, where trees victims of the fury of the winds are looking to better see the sea. Arrived at the level of the small white church and the tower of jagged, it stops and sign. A thought for his fleeting, but sincere. It stops its running and walking, placing themselves at the edge of the road, as he has recommended its mother. The sun, already high in the sky hits the earth, and pours out of the water of its pores. The detour of another cornering, facing him, the houses in first line stand at the edge of the cliff. Behind them, their congeners jostle each other, are entangled in a meander of stairs and terraces supported by gigantic vaults. This aggregate of white Coruscant is the village of the old man with the red boat, his friend the fisherman. He will see tomorrow, it is promised. And if the wind is still Asleep, then they will go fishing. But the high mountain behind the village darkens to a cupola of clouds. His nostrils smell the wind which rises. The Sea more close leaves see streaks moiré. The invisible air ébouriffe his hair and refreshes its walk.
A group of black crows dance a aerial ballet, followed by a troupe of white dove. It is funny, they cohabit and share the scene, with harmony. The wind is reinforced and whistles to his ears a melody that announces that it wakes up for good and that the fishery will not take place. His body is offset by jerking, gusts multiply the speed of its not, approximate the minutes of his arrival. It reached the point of the journey that he loves, the one of the last view of the Whole, where the two rival bays are exposed to its eyes. He knows, soon a single will come out the winner and will offer to him: the Siena, which he knows every nook and cranny, that of the House to the blue shutters. Fragments of balafrent waves the smoothness of the sea which takes a metallic sheen. Its eyes are magnetized by this show mesmerizing. Now, the asperities grow, second after second. The striations shifting condense and an abundant foam covers the vastness of the water. The undertow thunders and crashing crystalline lens of the fracture of the rolls on the rocks accompanies its latest not. On the beach beaten by the waves, the wet sand is constelle of small holes where the trapped air escapes. His shoes y leave fingerprints deep. The bottom of the sea roars of sounds in cluster that indicate the presence of rollers. A smell of algae and shellfish sweetens the air. Tingling point at the end of his language, the happiness is there. The house with the blue shutters is to scope of view. The holiday begins.
The she-wolf was remained a long time stationary to observe the decline of the night. She was sitting on a large stone dominating the valley, his gaze of amber clouded by fear. It would have had to flee, as its male, quit this territory cursed. Of the men were come in large numbers, they had found the cave where were hidden its small and had captured... There were so many memories here: those of the hunts, the pack, seasons always renewed, the smell of the ibex, chamois and wild boar, the mad race of hares, the slab, the songs of birds, the cries of the chocards and marmots, the visit of the eagles and the bearded vulture... the softness of the mélézin in autumn, the agitation lovers... They were not going to delay to arrive. The gendarmes had prevented the standby: "Tomorrow, you will need to leave, it remains more than you; "Pierre was again prevailed, he had answered "rather die! "Before going to shut himself up in the discount where it came out more since a week. Marthe had resigned. She had not hesitated for a very long time to make his baggage. They were poor... old and poor. Everything that she had held in a trunk that his father had manufactured in the Larch, a larch centenary Struck by Lightning above the pastures. Already, the bulldozers were start their engine. In a few hours, there would be nothing left of the village. As of departures, the houses were destroyed. Take the clock also, do not leave them... The small Mandarine that I peeled this morning, I told him that it was beautiful. It is true that she was beautiful, dressed in a bright orange, with its small blue label who spoke of wilderness areas of Africa, Jamaica or of the South of Spain. I told him bluntly that it came from very far for not much, and that I was going to the strip for the Gobble. It which has pushed quiet under the sun with her girlfriends between sheets refreshing, of the Amours teenage girls, human beings who the caress and breathe its perfume lemon, powder sometimes in the evening, when it has done too hot. A lifetime of sweets and of attentions. The small Mandarine frightening in the hands of a man who takes to install in a large basket and who dream of adventures but who does not know the secret of its destination: a sauce for a game, the hands of a child who the fiddles with all afternoon and which the spits on the dog, a last small bride in the mouth of a sick who only supports its freshness exotic and which blew its pulp tender in its toothless mouth and me, this morning who me back on it and who reinvent the strip-tease, in the sticking to hair methodically, I discovers its small neighborhoods of armoured, juice of half-moons fed by the lullaby of the sun, soft As the skin of my sister... as small breasts, as Love. Her dress fell on the carpet. My small planet Orange, TE that is any naked, thank you for coming, thank you for everything. I put a whole in my mouth, a thunder of tastes, travel, cosmic visions, Summers far from here, I swallowed his soul of tangerine and its small lunar body, I have As soon as the first turns staggering, an indomitable impatience invades its body. Its mouth pronounces unalterably the same query: "Please Maman, let me drop before the church. "And always the doubt in the head of the brunette woman. "Is it sensible, the let down, alone, on this route? "
In the mirror, the eyes of Alexis rounded of wonder and his nostrils dilate while his legs hammer the driver's seat. Then, still, it yields. The car brakes and stops. He has won a few hundreds of meters! Pleased with his small victory, it s an extract of the passenger compartment of the car, fact slamming the door of a noise sec. Of the glass lowered, her mother serine the latest recommendations. Already, is no longer listening. An intoxicating feeling gripped his body, making emerge from the water at the surface of its eyes. A oceanic joy exalts its sense, before him a horizon without end responsible for blue.
He would like to drink which offers itself to him, get drunk of this blue or well stay sober and keep intact, in memory, vision, odours and noises. In a first time, it remains stationary to restore the tranquillity and let disappear the car. Once this parasite audible and visual disappeared, it pushes a sharp cry of Conqueror. In the far distance, the vast sea embraces a blue sky which acid emanates a sparkling light which it burns the retina. Near the coast, the sea more limpid leaves see its treasures. It distinguishes the rocks that the live, the sand banks and the colonies of algae that live there. Festoons of whitish scum marks the demarcation between the sea and the earth. He likes this panoramic domination. At the time his pulse is calm, it inspires at length, leaving the clean air iodized, seep into the smallest alveoli. The Aromatic keys of thyme ensoleillent his head, the amber fragrance of rockrose awakens his memory. And its legs are dérouillent; it then begins to run on the road in yaw which lets discover another vision at every turn. In some valleys, the laurels fuchsia pink spread in cascade. More in height, the flowers of genets punctuate of yellow, orange of the earth. Of antediluvian walls, witnesses secular, built in dry stone draw terraces, where trees victims of the fury of the winds are looking to better see the sea. Arrived at the level of the small white church and the tower of jagged, it stops and sign. A thought for his fleeting, but sincere. It stops its running and walking, placing themselves at the edge of the road, as he has recommended its mother. The sun, already high in the sky hits the earth, and pours out of the water of its pores. The detour of another cornering, facing him, the houses in first line stand at the edge of the cliff. Behind them, their congeners jostle each other, are entangled in a meander of stairs and terraces supported by gigantic vaults. This aggregate of white Coruscant is the village of the old man with the red boat, his friend the fisherman. He will see tomorrow, it is promised. And if the wind is still Asleep, then they will go fishing. But the high mountain behind the village darkens to a cupola of clouds. His nostrils smell the wind which rises. The Sea more close leaves see streaks moiré. The invisible air ébouriffe his hair and refreshes its walk. A group of black crows dance a aerial ballet, followed by a troupe of white dove. It is funny, they cohabit and share the scene, with harmony. The wind is reinforced and whistles to his ears a melody that announces that it wakes up for good and that the fishery will not take place. His body is offset by jerking, gusts multiply the speed of its not, approximate the minutes of his arrival. It reached the point of the journey that he loves, the one of the last view of the Whole, where the two rival bays are exposed to its eyes. He knows, soon a single will come out the winner and will offer to him: the Siena, which he knows every nook and cranny, that of the House to the blue shutters. Fragments of balafrent waves the smoothness of the sea which takes a metallic sheen. Its eyes are magnetized by this show mesmerizing. Now, the asperities grow, second after second. The striations shifting condense and an abundant foam covers the vastness of the water. The undertow thunders and crashing crystalline lens of the fracture of the rolls on the rocks accompanies its latest not. On the beach beaten by the waves, the wet sand is constelle of small holes where the trapped air escapes. His shoes y leave fingerprints deep. The bottom of the sea roars of sounds in cluster that indicate the presence of rollers. A smell of algae and shellfish sweetens the air. Tingling point at the end of his language, the happiness is there. The house with the blue shutters is to scope of view. The holiday begins. The she-wolf was remained a long time stationary to observe the decline of the night. She was sitting on a large stone dominating the valley, his gaze of amber clouded by fear. It would have had to flee, as its male, quit this territory cursed. Of the men were come in large numbers, they had found the cave where were hidden its small and had captured... There were so many memories here: those of the hunts, the pack, seasons always renewed, the smell of the ibex, chamois and wild boar, the mad race of hares, the slab, the songs of birds, the cries of the chocards and marmots, the visit of the eagles and the bearded vulture... the softness of the mélézin in autumn, the agitation lovers...
They were not going to delay to arrive. The gendarmes had prevented the standby: "Tomorrow, you will need to leave, it remains more than you; "Pierre was again prevailed, he had answered "rather die! "Before going to shut himself up in the discount where it came out more since a week. Marthe had resigned. She had not hesitated for a very long time to make his baggage. They were poor... old and poor. Everything that she had held in a trunk that his father had manufactured in the Larch, a larch centenary Struck by Lightning above the pastures. Already, the bulldozers were start their engine. In a few hours, there would be nothing left of the village. As of departures, the houses were destroyed. Take the clock also, do not leave them...
The small Mandarine that I peeled this morning, I told him that it was beautiful. It is true that she was beautiful, dressed in a bright orange, with its small blue label who spoke of wilderness areas of Africa, Jamaica or of the South of Spain. I told him bluntly that it came from very far for not much, and that I was going to the strip for the Gobble. It which has pushed quiet under the sun with her girlfriends between sheets refreshing, of the Amours teenage girls, human beings who the caress and breathe its perfume lemon, powder sometimes in the evening, when it has done too hot. A lifetime of sweets and of attentions. The small Mandarine frightening in the hands of a man who takes to install in a large basket and who dream of adventures but who does not know the secret of its destination: a sauce for a game, the hands of a child who the fiddles with all afternoon and which the spits on the dog, a last small bride in the mouth of a sick who only supports its freshness exotic and which blew its pulp tender in its toothless mouth and me, this morning who me back on it and who reinvent the strip-tease, in the sticking to hair methodically, I discovers its small neighborhoods of armoured, juice of half-moons fed by the lullaby of the sun, soft As the skin of my sister... as small breasts, as Love. Her dress fell on the carpet. My small planet Orange, TE that is any naked, thank you for coming, thank you for everything. I put a whole in my mouth, a thunder of tastes, travel, cosmic visions, Summers far from here, I swallowed his soul of tangerine and its small lunar body, I have As soon as the first turns staggering, an indomitable impatience invades its body. Its mouth pronounces unalterably the same query: "Please Maman, let me drop before the church. "And always the doubt in the head of the brunette woman. "Is it sensible, the let down, alone, on this route? "
In the mirror, the eyes of Alexis rounded of wonder and his nostrils dilate while his legs hammer the driver's seat. Then, still, it yields. The car brakes and stops. He has won a few hundreds of meters! Pleased with his small victory, it s an extract of the passenger compartment of the car, fact slamming the door of a noise sec. Of the glass lowered, her mother serine the latest recommendations. Already, is no longer listening. An intoxicating feeling gripped his body, making emerge from the water at the surface of its eyes. A oceanic joy exalts its sense, before him a horizon without end responsible for blue. He would like to drink which offers itself to him, get drunk of this blue or well stay sober and keep intact, in memory, vision, odours and noises. In a first time, it remains stationary to restore the tranquillity and let disappear the car. Once this parasite audible and visual disappeared, it pushes a sharp cry of Conqueror. In the far distance, the vast sea embraces a blue sky which acid emanates a sparkling light which it burns the retina. Near the coast, the sea more limpid leaves see its treasures. It distinguishes the rocks that the live, the sand banks and the colonies of algae that live there. Festoons of whitish scum marks the demarcation between the sea and the earth. He likes this panoramic domination. At the time his pulse is calm, it inspires at length, leaving the clean air iodized, seep into the smallest alveoli. The Aromatic keys of thyme ensoleillent his head, the amber fragrance of rockrose awakens his memory. And its legs are dérouillent; it then begins to run on the road in yaw which lets discover another vision at every turn. In some valleys, the laurels fuchsia pink spread in cascade. More in height, the flowers of genets punctuate of yellow, orange of the earth. Of antediluvian walls, witnesses secular, built in dry stone draw terraces, where trees victims of the fury of the winds are looking to better see the sea. Arrived at the level of the small white church and the tower of jagged, it stops and sign. A thought for his fleeting, but sincere. It stops its running and walking, placing themselves at the edge of the road, as he has recommended its mother. The sun, already high in the sky hits the earth, and pours out of the water of its pores. The detour of another cornering, facing him, the houses in first line stand at the edge of the cliff. Behind them, their congeners jostle each other, are entangled in a meander of stairs and terraces supported by gigantic vaults. This aggregate of white Coruscant is the village of the old man with the red boat, his friend the fisherman. He will see tomorrow, it is promised. And if the wind is still Asleep, then they will go fishing. But the high mountain behind the village darkens to a cupola of clouds. His nostrils smell the wind which rises. The Sea more close leaves see streaks moiré. The invisible air ébouriffe his hair and refreshes its walk. A group of black crows dance a aerial ballet, followed by a troupe of white dove. It is funny, they cohabit and share the scene, with harmony. The wind is reinforced and whistles to his ears a melody that announces that it wakes up for good and that the fishery will not take place. His body is offset by jerking, gusts multiply the speed of its not, approximate the minutes of his arrival. It reached the point of the journey that he loves, the one of the last view of the Whole, where the two rival bays are exposed to its eyes. He knows, soon a single will come out the winner and will offer to him: the Siena, which he knows every nook and cranny, that of the House to the blue shutters.
Fragments of balafrent waves the smoothness of the sea which takes a metallic sheen. Its eyes are magnetized by this show mesmerizing. Now, the asperities grow, second after second. The striations shifting condense and an abundant foam covers the vastness of the water. The undertow thunders and crashing crystalline lens of the fracture of the rolls on the rocks accompanies its latest not. On the beach beaten by the waves, the wet sand is constelle of small holes where the trapped air escapes. His shoes y leave fingerprints deep. The bottom of the sea roars of sounds in cluster that indicate the presence of rollers. A smell of algae and shellfish sweetens the air. Tingling point at the end of his language, the happiness is there. The house with the blue shutters is to scope of view. The holiday begins.
The she-wolf was remained a long time stationary to observe the decline of the night. She was sitting on a large stone dominating the valley, his gaze of amber clouded by fear. It would have had to flee, as its male, quit this territory cursed. Of the men were come in large numbers, they had found the cave where were hidden its small and had captured... There were so many memories here: those of the hunts, the pack, seasons always renewed, the smell of the ibex, chamois and wild boar, the mad race of hares, the slab, the songs of birds, the cries of the chocards and marmots, the visit of the eagles and the bearded vulture... the softness of the mélézin in autumn, the agitation lovers...
They were not going to delay to arrive. The gendarmes had prevented the standby: "Tomorrow, you will need to leave, it remains more than you; "Pierre was again prevailed, he had answered "rather die! "Before going to shut himself up in the discount where it came out more since a week. Marthe had resigned. She had not hesitated for a very long time to make his baggage. They were poor... old and poor. Everything that she had held in a trunk that his father had manufactured in the Larch, a larch centenary Struck by Lightning above the pastures. Already, the bulldozers were start their engine. In a few hours, there would be nothing left of the village. As of departures, the houses were destroyed. Take the clock also, do not leave them...
The small Mandarine that I peeled this morning, I told him that it was beautiful. It is true that she was beautiful, dressed in a bright orange, with its small blue label who spoke of wilderness areas of Africa, Jamaica or of the South of Spain. I told him bluntly that it came from very far for not much, and that I was going to the strip for the Gobble. It which has pushed quiet under the sun with her girlfriends between sheets refreshing, of the Amours teenage girls, human beings who the caress and breathe its perfume lemon, powder sometimes in the evening, when it has done too hot. A lifetime of sweets and of attentions. The small Mandarine frightening in the hands of a man who takes to install in a large basket and who dream of adventures but who does not know the secret of its destination: a sauce for a game, the hands of a child who the fiddles with all afternoon and which the spits on the dog, a last small bride in the mouth of a sick who only supports its freshness exotic and which blew its pulp tender in its toothless mouth and me, this morning who me back on it and who reinvent the strip-tease, in the sticking to hair methodically, I discovers its small neighborhoods of armoured, juice of half-moons fed by the lullaby of the sun, soft As the skin of my sister... as small breasts, as Love. Her dress fell on the carpet. My small planet Orange, TE that is any naked, thank you for coming, thank you for everything. I put a whole in my mouth, a thunder of tastes, travel, cosmic visions, Summers far from here, I swallowed his soul of tangerine and its small lunar body, I have
In the mirror, the eyes of Alexis rounded of wonder and his nostrils dilate while his legs hammer the driver's seat. Then, still, it yields. The car brakes and stops. He has won a few hundreds of meters! Pleased with his small victory, it s an extract of the passenger compartment of the car, fact slamming the door of a noise sec. Of the glass lowered, her mother serine the latest recommendations. Already, is no longer listening. An intoxicating feeling gripped his body, making emerge from the water at the surface of its eyes. A oceanic joy exalts its sense, before him a horizon without end responsible for blue. He would like to drink which offers itself to him, get drunk of this blue or well stay sober and keep intact, in memory, vision, odours and noises. In a first time, it remains stationary to restore the tranquillity and let disappear the car. Once this parasite audible and visual disappeared, it pushes a sharp cry of Conqueror. In the far distance, the vast sea embraces a blue sky which acid emanates a sparkling light which it burns the retina. Near the coast, the sea more limpid leaves see its treasures. It distinguishes the rocks that the live, the sand banks and the colonies of algae that live there. Festoons of whitish scum marks the demarcation between the sea and the earth. He likes this panoramic domination. At the time his pulse is calm, it inspires at length, leaving the clean air iodized, seep into the smallest alveoli. The Aromatic keys of thyme ensoleillent his head, the amber fragrance of rockrose awakens his memory. And its legs are dérouillent; it then begins to run on the road in yaw which lets discover another vision at every turn.
In some valleys, the laurels fuchsia pink spread in cascade. More in height, the flowers of genets punctuate of yellow, orange of the earth. Of antediluvian walls, witnesses secular, built in dry stone draw terraces, where trees victims of the fury of the winds are looking to better see the sea. Arrived at the level of the small white church and the tower of jagged, it stops and sign. A thought for his fleeting, but sincere. It stops its running and walking, placing themselves at the edge of the road, as he has recommended its mother. The sun, already high in the sky hits the earth, and pours out of the water of its pores. The detour of another cornering, facing him, the houses in first line stand at the edge of the cliff. Behind them, their congeners jostle each other, are entangled in a meander of stairs and terraces supported by gigantic vaults. This aggregate of white Coruscant is the village of the old man with the red boat, his friend the fisherman. He will see tomorrow, it is promised. And if the wind is still Asleep, then they will go fishing. But the high mountain behind the village darkens to a cupola of clouds. His nostrils smell the wind which rises. The Sea more close leaves see streaks moiré. The invisible air ébouriffe his hair and refreshes its walk.
A group of black crows dance a aerial ballet, followed by a troupe of white dove. It is funny, they cohabit and share the scene, with harmony. The wind is reinforced and whistles to his ears a melody that announces that it wakes up for good and that the fishery will not take place. His body is offset by jerking, gusts multiply the speed of its not, approximate the minutes of his arrival. It reached the point of the journey that he loves, the one of the last view of the Whole, where the two rival bays are exposed to its eyes. He knows, soon a single will come out the winner and will offer to him: the Siena, which he knows every nook and cranny, that of the House to the blue shutters. Fragments of balafrent waves the smoothness of the sea which takes a metallic sheen. Its eyes are magnetized by this show mesmerizing. Now, the asperities grow, second after second. The striations shifting condense and an abundant foam covers the vastness of the water. The undertow thunders and crashing crystalline lens of the fracture of the rolls on the rocks accompanies its latest not. On the beach beaten by the waves, the wet sand is constelle of small holes where the trapped air escapes. His shoes y leave fingerprints deep. The bottom of the sea roars of sounds in cluster that indicate the presence of rollers. A smell of algae and shellfish sweetens the air. Tingling point at the end of his language, the happiness is there. The house with the blue shutters is to scope of view. The holiday begins.
The she-wolf was remained a long time stationary to observe the decline of the night. She was sitting on a large stone dominating the valley, his gaze of amber clouded by fear. It would have had to flee, as its male, quit this territory cursed. Of the men were come in large numbers, they had found the cave where were hidden its small and had captured... There were so many memories here: those of the hunts, the pack, seasons always renewed, the smell of the ibex, chamois and wild boar, the mad race of hares, the slab, the songs of birds, the cries of the chocards and marmots, the visit of the eagles and the bearded vulture... the softness of the mélézin in autumn, the agitation lovers... They were not going to delay to arrive. The gendarmes had prevented the standby: "Tomorrow, you will need to leave, it remains more than you; "Pierre was again prevailed, he had answered "rather die! "Before going to shut himself up in the discount where it came out more since a week. Marthe had resigned. She had not hesitated for a very long time to make his baggage. They were poor... old and poor. Everything that she had held in a trunk that his father had manufactured in the Larch, a larch centenary Struck by Lightning above the pastures. Already, the bulldozers were start their engine. In a few hours, there would be nothing left of the village. As of departures, the houses were destroyed. Take the clock also, do not leave them... The small Mandarine that I peeled this morning, I told him that it was beautiful. It is true that she was beautiful, dressed in a bright orange, with its small blue label who spoke of wilderness areas of Africa, Jamaica or of the South of Spain. I told him bluntly that it came from very far for not much, and that I was going to the strip for the Gobble. It which has pushed quiet under the sun with her girlfriends between sheets refreshing, of the Amours teenage girls, human beings who the caress and breathe its perfume lemon, powder sometimes in the evening, when it has done too hot. A lifetime of sweets and of attentions. The small Mandarine frightening in the hands of a man who takes to install in a large basket and who dream of adventures but who does not know the secret of its destination: a sauce for a game, the hands of a child who the fiddles with all afternoon and which the spits on the dog, a last small bride in the mouth of a sick who only supports its freshness exotic and which blew its pulp tender in its toothless mouth and me, this morning who me back on it and who reinvent the strip-tease, in the sticking to hair methodically, I discovers its small neighborhoods of armoured, juice of half-moons fed by the lullaby of the sun, soft As the skin of my sister... as small breasts, as Love. Her dress fell on the carpet. My small planet Orange, TE that is any naked, thank you for coming, thank you for everything. I put a whole in my mouth, a thunder of tastes, travel, cosmic visions, Summers far from here, I swallowed his soul of tangerine and its small lunar body, I have As soon as the first turns staggering, an indomitable impatience invades its body. Its mouth pronounces unalterably the same query: "Please Maman, let me drop before the church. "And always the doubt in the head of the brunette woman. "Is it sensible, the let down, alone, on this route? " In the mirror, the eyes of Alexis rounded of wonder and his nostrils dilate while his legs hammer the driver's seat. Then, still, it yields. The car brakes and stops. He has won a few hundreds of meters! Pleased with his small victory, it s an extract of the passenger compartment of the car, fact slamming the door of a noise sec. Of the glass lowered, her mother serine the latest recommendations. Already, is no longer listening. An intoxicating feeling gripped his body, making emerge from the water at the surface of its eyes. A oceanic joy exalts its sense, before him a horizon without end responsible for blue. He would like to drink which offers itself to him, get drunk of this blue or well stay sober and keep intact, in memory, vision, odours and noises. In a first time, it remains stationary to restore the tranquillity and let disappear the car. Once this parasite audible and visual disappeared, it pushes a sharp cry of Conqueror. In the far distance, the vast sea embraces a blue sky which acid emanates a sparkling light which it burns the retina. Near the coast, the sea more limpid leaves see its treasures. It distinguishes the rocks that the live, the sand banks and the colonies of algae that live there. Festoons of whitish scum marks the demarcation between the sea and the earth. He likes this panoramic domination. At the time his pulse is calm, it inspires at length, leaving the clean air iodized, seep into the smallest alveoli. The Aromatic keys of thyme ensoleillent his head, the amber fragrance of rockrose awakens his memory. And its legs are dérouillent; it then begins to run on the road in yaw which lets discover another vision at every turn.
In some valleys, the laurels fuchsia pink spread in cascade. More in height, the flowers of genets punctuate of yellow, orange of the earth. Of antediluvian walls, witnesses secular, built in dry stone draw terraces, where trees victims of the fury of the winds are looking to better see the sea. Arrived at the level of the small white church and the tower of jagged, it stops and sign. A thought for his fleeting, but sincere. It stops its running and walking, placing themselves at the edge of the road, as he has recommended its mother. The sun, already high in the sky hits the earth, and pours out of the water of its pores. The detour of another cornering, facing him, the houses in first line stand at the edge of the cliff. Behind them, their congeners jostle each other, are entangled in a meander of stairs and terraces supported by gigantic vaults. This aggregate of white Coruscant is the village of the old man with the red boat, his friend the fisherman. He will see tomorrow, it is promised. And if the wind is still Asleep, then they will go fishing. But the high mountain behind the village darkens to a cupola of clouds. His nostrils smell the wind which rises. The Sea more close leaves see streaks moiré. The invisible air ébouriffe his hair and refreshes its walk.
A group of black crows dance a aerial ballet, followed by a troupe of white dove. It is funny, they cohabit and share the scene, with harmony. The wind is reinforced and whistles to his ears a melody that announces that it wakes up for good and that the fishery will not take place. His body is offset by jerking, gusts multiply the speed of its not, approximate the minutes of his arrival. It reached the point of the journey that he loves, the one of the last view of the Whole, where the two rival bays are exposed to its eyes. He knows, soon a single will come out the winner and will offer to him: the Siena, which he knows every nook and cranny, that of the House to the blue shutters. Fragments of balafrent waves the smoothness of the sea which takes a metallic sheen. Its eyes are magnetized by this show mesmerizing. Now, the asperities grow, second after second. The striations shifting condense and an abundant foam covers the vastness of the water. The undertow thunders and crashing crystalline lens of the fracture of the rolls on the rocks accompanies its latest not. On the beach beaten by the waves, the wet sand is constelle of small holes where the trapped air escapes. His shoes y leave fingerprints deep. The bottom of the sea roars of sounds in cluster that indicate the presence of rollers. A smell of algae and shellfish sweetens the air. Tingling point at the end of his language, the happiness is there. The house with the blue shutters is to scope of view. The holiday begins. The she-wolf was remained a long time stationary to observe the decline of the night. She was sitting on a large stone dominating the valley, his gaze of amber clouded by fear. It would have had to flee, as its male, quit this territory cursed. Of the men were come in large numbers, they had found the cave where were hidden its small and had captured... There were so many memories here: those of the hunts, the pack, seasons always renewed, the smell of the ibex, chamois and wild boar, the mad race of hares, the slab, the songs of birds, the cries of the chocards and marmots, the visit of the eagles and the bearded vulture... the softness of the mélézin in autumn, the agitation lovers... They were not going to delay to arrive. The gendarmes had prevented the standby: "Tomorrow, you will need to leave, it remains more than you; "Pierre was again prevailed, he had answered "rather die! "Before going to shut himself up in the discount where it came out more since a week. Marthe had resigned. She had not hesitated for a very long time to make his baggage. They were poor... old and poor. Everything that she had held in a trunk that his father had manufactured in the Larch, a larch centenary Struck by Lightning above the pastures. Already, the bulldozers were start their engine. In a few hours, there would be nothing left of the village. As of departures, the houses were destroyed. Take the clock also, do not leave them... The small Mandarine that I peeled this morning, I told him that it was beautiful. It is true that she was beautiful, dressed in a bright orange, with its small blue label who spoke of wilderness areas of Africa, Jamaica or of the South of Spain. I told him bluntly that it came from very far for not much, and that I was going to the strip for the Gobble. It which has pushed quiet under the sun with her girlfriends between sheets refreshing, of the Amours teenage girls, human beings who the caress and breathe its perfume lemon, powder sometimes in the evening, when it has done too hot. A lifetime of sweets and of attentions. The small Mandarine frightening in the hands of a man who takes to install in a large basket and who dream of adventures but who does not know the secret of its destination: a sauce for a game, the hands of a child who the fiddles with all afternoon and which the spits on the dog, a last small bride in the mouth of a sick who only supports its freshness exotic and which blew its pulp tender in its toothless mouth and me, this morning who me back on it and who reinvent the strip-tease, in the sticking to hair methodically, I discovers its small neighborhoods of armoured, juice of half-moons fed by the lullaby of the sun, soft As the skin of my sister... as small breasts, as Love. Her dress fell on the carpet. My small planet Orange, TE that is any naked, thank you for coming, thank you for everything. I put a whole in my mouth, a thunder of tastes, travel, cosmic visions, Summers far from here, I swallowed his soul of tangerine and its small lunar body, I have As soon as the first turns staggering, an indomitable impatience invades its body. Its mouth pronounces unalterably the same query: "Please Maman, let me drop before the church. "And always the doubt in the head of the brunette woman. "Is it sensible, the let down, alone, on this route? "
In the mirror, the eyes of Alexis rounded of wonder and his nostrils dilate while his legs hammer the driver's seat. Then, still, it yields. The car brakes and stops. He has won a few hundreds of meters! Pleased with his small victory, it s an extract of the passenger compartment of the car, fact slamming the door of a noise sec. Of the glass lowered, her mother serine the latest recommendations. Already, is no longer listening. An intoxicating feeling gripped his body, making emerge from the water at the surface of its eyes. A oceanic joy exalts its sense, before him a horizon without end responsible for blue. He would like to drink which offers itself to him, get drunk of this blue or well stay sober and keep intact, in memory, vision, odours and noises. In a first time, it remains stationary to restore the tranquillity and let disappear the car. Once this parasite audible and visual disappeared, it pushes a sharp cry of Conqueror. In the far distance, the vast sea embraces a blue sky which acid emanates a sparkling light which it burns the retina. Near the coast, the sea more limpid leaves see its treasures. It distinguishes the rocks that the live, the sand banks and the colonies of algae that live there. Festoons of whitish scum marks the demarcation between the sea and the earth. He likes this panoramic domination. At the time his pulse is calm, it inspires at length, leaving the clean air iodized, seep into the smallest alveoli. The Aromatic keys of thyme ensoleillent his head, the amber fragrance of rockrose awakens his memory. And its legs are dérouillent; it then begins to run on the road in yaw which lets discover another vision at every turn. In some valleys, the laurels fuchsia pink spread in cascade. More in height, the flowers of genets punctuate of yellow, orange of the earth. Of antediluvian walls, witnesses secular, built in dry stone draw terraces, where trees victims of the fury of the winds are looking to better see the sea. Arrived at the level of the small white church and the tower of jagged, it stops and sign. A thought for his fleeting, but sincere. It stops its running and walking, placing themselves at the edge of the road, as he has recommended its mother. The sun, already high in the sky hits the earth, and pours out of the water of its pores. The detour of another cornering, facing him, the houses in first line stand at the edge of the cliff. Behind them, their congeners jostle each other, are entangled in a meander of stairs and terraces supported by gigantic vaults. This aggregate of white Coruscant is the village of the old man with the red boat, his friend the fisherman. He will see tomorrow, it is promised. And if the wind is still Asleep, then they will go fishing. But the high mountain behind the village darkens to a cupola of clouds. His nostrils smell the wind which rises. The Sea more close leaves see streaks moiré. The invisible air ébouriffe his hair and refreshes its walk.
A group of black crows dance a aerial ballet, followed by a troupe of white dove. It is funny, they cohabit and share the scene, with harmony. The wind is reinforced and whistles to his ears a melody that announces that it wakes up for good and that the fishery will not take place. His body is offset by jerking, gusts multiply the speed of its not, approximate the minutes of his arrival. It reached the point of the journey that he loves, the one of the last view of the Whole, where the two rival bays are exposed to its eyes. He knows, soon a single will come out the winner and will offer to him: the Siena, which he knows every nook and cranny, that of the House to the blue shutters. Fragments of balafrent waves the smoothness of the sea which takes a metallic sheen. Its eyes are magnetized by this show mesmerizing. Now, the asperities grow, second after second. The striations shifting condense and an abundant foam covers the vastness of the water. The undertow thunders and crashing crystalline lens of the fracture of the rolls on the rocks accompanies its latest not. On the beach beaten by the waves, the wet sand is constelle of small holes where the trapped air escapes. His shoes y leave fingerprints deep. The bottom of the sea roars of sounds in cluster that indicate the presence of rollers. A smell of algae and shellfish sweetens the air. Tingling point at the end of his language, the happiness is there. The house with the blue shutters is to scope of view. The holiday begins.
The she-wolf was remained a long time stationary to observe the decline of the night. She was sitting on a large stone dominating the valley, his gaze of amber clouded by fear. It would have had to flee, as its male, quit this territory cursed. Of the men were come in large numbers, they had found the cave where were hidden its small and had captured... There were so many memories here: those of the hunts, the pack, seasons always renewed, the smell of the ibex, chamois and wild boar, the mad race of hares, the slab, the songs of birds, the cries of the chocards and marmots, the visit of the eagles and the bearded vulture... the softness of the mélézin in autumn, the agitation lovers... They were not going to delay to arrive. The gendarmes had prevented the standby: "Tomorrow, you will need to leave, it remains more than you; "Pierre was again prevailed, he had answered "rather die! "Before going to shut himself up in the discount where it came out more since a week. Marthe had resigned. She had not hesitated for a very long time to make his baggage. They were poor... old and poor. Everything that she had held in a trunk that his father had manufactured in the Larch, a larch centenary Struck by Lightning above the pastures. Already, the bulldozers were start their engine. In a few hours, there would be nothing left of the village. As of departures, the houses were destroyed. Take the clock also, do not leave them... The small Mandarine that I peeled this morning, I told him that it was beautiful. It is true that she was beautiful, dressed in a bright orange, with its small blue label who spoke of wilderness areas of Africa, Jamaica or of the South of Spain. I told him bluntly that it came from very far for not much, and that I was going to the strip for the Gobble. It which has pushed quiet under the sun with her girlfriends between sheets refreshing, of the Amours teenage girls, human beings who the caress and breathe its perfume lemon, powder sometimes in the evening, when it has done too hot. A lifetime of sweets and of attentions. The small Mandarine frightening in the hands of a man who takes to install in a large basket and who dream of adventures but who does not know the secret of its destination: a sauce for a game, the hands of a child who the fiddles with all afternoon and which the spits on the dog, a last small bride in the mouth of a sick who only supports its freshness exotic and which blew its pulp tender in its toothless mouth and me, this morning who me back on it and who reinvent the strip-tease, in the sticking to hair methodically, I discovers its small neighborhoods of armoured, juice of half-moons fed by the lullaby of the sun, soft As the skin of my sister... as small breasts, as Love. Her dress fell on the carpet. My small planet Orange, TE that is any naked, thank you for coming, thank you for everything. I put a whole in my mouth, a thunder of tastes, travel, cosmic visions, Summers far from here, I swallowed his soul of tangerine and its small lunar body, I have As soon as the first turns staggering, an indomitable impatience invades its body. Its mouth pronounces unalterably the same query: "Please Maman, let me drop before the church. "And always the doubt in the head of the brunette woman. "Is it sensible, the let down, alone, on this route? "
In the mirror, the eyes of Alexis rounded of wonder and his nostrils dilate while his legs hammer the driver's seat. Then, still, it yields. The car brakes and stops. He has won a few hundreds of meters! Pleased with his small victory, it s an extract of the passenger compartment of the car, fact slamming the door of a noise sec. Of the glass lowered, her mother serine the latest recommendations. Already, is no longer listening. An intoxicating feeling gripped his body, making emerge from the water at the surface of its eyes. A oceanic joy exalts its sense, before him a horizon without end responsible for blue.
He would like to drink which offers itself to him, get drunk of this blue or well stay sober and keep intact, in memory, vision, odours and noises. In a first time, it remains stationary to restore the tranquillity and let disappear the car. Once this parasite audible and visual disappeared, it pushes a sharp cry of Conqueror. In the far distance, the vast sea embraces a blue sky which acid emanates a sparkling light which it burns the retina. Near the coast, the sea more limpid leaves see its treasures. It distinguishes the rocks that the live, the sand banks and the colonies of algae that live there. Festoons of whitish scum marks the demarcation between the sea and the earth. He likes this panoramic domination. At the time his pulse is calm, it inspires at length, leaving the clean air iodized, seep into the smallest alveoli. The Aromatic keys of thyme ensoleillent his head, the amber fragrance of rockrose awakens his memory. And its legs are dérouillent; it then begins to run on the road in yaw which lets discover another vision at every turn. In some valleys, the laurels fuchsia pink spread in cascade. More in height, the flowers of genets punctuate of yellow, orange of the earth. Of antediluvian walls, witnesses secular, built in dry stone draw terraces, where trees victims of the fury of the winds are looking to better see the sea. Arrived at the level of the small white church and the tower of jagged, it stops and sign. A thought for his fleeting, but sincere. It stops its running and walking, placing themselves at the edge of the road, as he has recommended its mother. The sun, already high in the sky hits the earth, and pours out of the water of its pores. The detour of another cornering, facing him, the houses in first line stand at the edge of the cliff. Behind them, their congeners jostle each other, are entangled in a meander of stairs and terraces supported by gigantic vaults. This aggregate of white Coruscant is the village of the old man with the red boat, his friend the fisherman. He will see tomorrow, it is promised. And if the wind is still Asleep, then they will go fishing. But the high mountain behind the village darkens to a cupola of clouds. His nostrils smell the wind which rises. The Sea more close leaves see streaks moiré. The invisible air ébouriffe his hair and refreshes its walk. A group of black crows dance a aerial ballet, followed by a troupe of white dove. It is funny, they cohabit and share the scene, with harmony. The wind is reinforced and whistles to his ears a melody that announces that it wakes up for good and that the fishery will not take place. His body is offset by jerking, gusts multiply the speed of its not, approximate the minutes of his arrival. It reached the point of the journey that he loves, the one of the last view of the Whole, where the two rival bays are exposed to its eyes. He knows, soon a single will come out the winner and will offer to him: the Siena, which he knows every nook and cranny, that of the House to the blue shutters. Fragments of balafrent waves the smoothness of the sea which takes a metallic sheen. Its eyes are magnetized by this show mesmerizing. Now, the asperities grow, second after second. The striations shifting condense and an abundant foam covers the vastness of the water. The undertow thunders and crashing crystalline lens of the fracture of the rolls on the rocks accompanies its latest not. On the beach beaten by the waves, the wet sand is constelle of small holes where the trapped air escapes. His shoes y leave fingerprints deep. The bottom of the sea roars of sounds in cluster that indicate the presence of rollers. A smell of algae and shellfish sweetens the air. Tingling point at the end of his language, the happiness is there. The house with the blue shutters is to scope of view. The holiday begins. The she-wolf was remained a long time stationary to observe the decline of the night. She was sitting on a large stone dominating the valley, his gaze of amber clouded by fear. It would have had to flee, as its male, quit this territory cursed. Of the men were come in large numbers, they had found the cave where were hidden its small and had captured... There were so many memories here: those of the hunts, the pack, seasons always renewed, the smell of the ibex, chamois and wild boar, the mad race of hares, the slab, the songs of birds, the cries of the chocards and marmots, the visit of the eagles and the bearded vulture... the softness of the mélézin in autumn, the agitation lovers...
They were not going to delay to arrive. The gendarmes had prevented the standby: "Tomorrow, you will need to leave, it remains more than you; "Pierre was again prevailed, he had answered "rather die! "Before going to shut himself up in the discount where it came out more since a week. Marthe had resigned. She had not hesitated for a very long time to make his baggage. They were poor... old and poor. Everything that she had held in a trunk that his father had manufactured in the Larch, a larch centenary Struck by Lightning above the pastures. Already, the bulldozers were start their engine. In a few hours, there would be nothing left of the village. As of departures, the houses were destroyed. Take the clock also, do not leave them...
The small Mandarine that I peeled this morning, I told him that it was beautiful. It is true that she was beautiful, dressed in a bright orange, with its small blue label who spoke of wilderness areas of Africa, Jamaica or of the South of Spain. I told him bluntly that it came from very far for not much, and that I was going to the strip for the Gobble. It which has pushed quiet under the sun with her girlfriends between sheets refreshing, of the Amours teenage girls, human beings who the caress and breathe its perfume lemon, powder sometimes in the evening, when it has done too hot. A lifetime of sweets and of attentions. The small Mandarine frightening in the hands of a man who takes to install in a large basket and who dream of adventures but who does not know the secret of its destination: a sauce for a game, the hands of a child who the fiddles with all afternoon and which the spits on the dog, a last small bride in the mouth of a sick who only supports its freshness exotic and which blew its pulp tender in its toothless mouth and me, this morning who me back on it and who reinvent the strip-tease, in the sticking to hair methodically, I discovers its small neighborhoods of armoured, juice of half-moons fed by the lullaby of the sun, soft As the skin of my sister... as small breasts, as Love. Her dress fell on the carpet. My small planet Orange, TE that is any naked, thank you for coming, thank you for everything. I put a whole in my mouth, a thunder of tastes, travel, cosmic visions, Summers far from here, I swallowed his soul of tangerine and its small lunar body, I have As soon as the first turns staggering, an indomitable impatience invades its body. Its mouth pronounces unalterably the same query: "Please Maman, let me drop before the church. "And always the doubt in the head of the brunette woman. "Is it sensible, the let down, alone, on this route? "
In the mirror, the eyes of Alexis rounded of wonder and his nostrils dilate while his legs hammer the driver's seat. Then, still, it yields. The car brakes and stops. He has won a few hundreds of meters! Pleased with his small victory, it s an extract of the passenger compartment of the car, fact slamming the door of a noise sec. Of the glass lowered, her mother serine the latest recommendations. Already, is no longer listening. An intoxicating feeling gripped his body, making emerge from the water at the surface of its eyes. A oceanic joy exalts its sense, before him a horizon without end responsible for blue. He would like to drink which offers itself to him, get drunk of this blue or well stay sober and keep intact, in memory, vision, odours and noises. In a first time, it remains stationary to restore the tranquillity and let disappear the car. Once this parasite audible and visual disappeared, it pushes a sharp cry of Conqueror. In the far distance, the vast sea embraces a blue sky which acid emanates a sparkling light which it burns the retina. Near the coast, the sea more limpid leaves see its treasures. It distinguishes the rocks that the live, the sand banks and the colonies of algae that live there. Festoons of whitish scum marks the demarcation between the sea and the earth. He likes this panoramic domination. At the time his pulse is calm, it inspires at length, leaving the clean air iodized, seep into the smallest alveoli. The Aromatic keys of thyme ensoleillent his head, the amber fragrance of rockrose awakens his memory. And its legs are dérouillent; it then begins to run on the road in yaw which lets discover another vision at every turn. In some valleys, the laurels fuchsia pink spread in cascade. More in height, the flowers of genets punctuate of yellow, orange of the earth. Of antediluvian walls, witnesses secular, built in dry stone draw terraces, where trees victims of the fury of the winds are looking to better see the sea. Arrived at the level of the small white church and the tower of jagged, it stops and sign. A thought for his fleeting, but sincere. It stops its running and walking, placing themselves at the edge of the road, as he has recommended its mother. The sun, already high in the sky hits the earth, and pours out of the water of its pores. The detour of another cornering, facing him, the houses in first line stand at the edge of the cliff. Behind them, their congeners jostle each other, are entangled in a meander of stairs and terraces supported by gigantic vaults. This aggregate of white Coruscant is the village of the old man with the red boat, his friend the fisherman. He will see tomorrow, it is promised. And if the wind is still Asleep, then they will go fishing. But the high mountain behind the village darkens to a cupola of clouds. His nostrils smell the wind which rises. The Sea more close leaves see streaks moiré. The invisible air ébouriffe his hair and refreshes its walk. A group of black crows dance a aerial ballet, followed by a troupe of white dove. It is funny, they cohabit and share the scene, with harmony. The wind is reinforced and whistles to his ears a melody that announces that it wakes up for good and that the fishery will not take place. His body is offset by jerking, gusts multiply the speed of its not, approximate the minutes of his arrival. It reached the point of the journey that he loves, the one of the last view of the Whole, where the two rival bays are exposed to its eyes. He knows, soon a single will come out the winner and will offer to him: the Siena, which he knows every nook and cranny, that of the House to the blue shutters.
Fragments of balafrent waves the smoothness of the sea which takes a metallic sheen. Its eyes are magnetized by this show mesmerizing. Now, the asperities grow, second after second. The striations shifting condense and an abundant foam covers the vastness of the water. The undertow thunders and crashing crystalline lens of the fracture of the rolls on the rocks accompanies its latest not. On the beach beaten by the waves, the wet sand is constelle of small holes where the trapped air escapes. His shoes y leave fingerprints deep. The bottom of the sea roars of sounds in cluster that indicate the presence of rollers. A smell of algae and shellfish sweetens the air. Tingling point at the end of his language, the happiness is there. The house with the blue shutters is to scope of view. The holiday begins.
The she-wolf was remained a long time stationary to observe the decline of the night. She was sitting on a large stone dominating the valley, his gaze of amber clouded by fear. It would have had to flee, as its male, quit this territory cursed. Of the men were come in large numbers, they had found the cave where were hidden its small and had captured... There were so many memories here: those of the hunts, the pack, seasons always renewed, the smell of the ibex, chamois and wild boar, the mad race of hares, the slab, the songs of birds, the cries of the chocards and marmots, the visit of the eagles and the bearded vulture... the softness of the mélézin in autumn, the agitation lovers...
They were not going to delay to arrive. The gendarmes had prevented the standby: "Tomorrow, you will need to leave, it remains more than you; "Pierre was again prevailed, he had answered "rather die! "Before going to shut himself up in the discount where it came out more since a week. Marthe had resigned. She had not hesitated for a very long time to make his baggage. They were poor... old and poor. Everything that she had held in a trunk that his father had manufactured in the Larch, a larch centenary Struck by Lightning above the pastures. Already, the bulldozers were start their engine. In a few hours, there would be nothing left of the village. As of departures, the houses were destroyed. Take the clock also, do not leave them...
The small Mandarine that I peeled this morning, I told him that it was beautiful. It is true that she was beautiful, dressed in a bright orange, with its small blue label who spoke of wilderness areas of Africa, Jamaica or of the South of Spain. I told him bluntly that it came from very far for not much, and that I was going to the strip for the Gobble. It which has pushed quiet under the sun with her girlfriends between sheets refreshing, of the Amours teenage girls, human beings who the caress and breathe its perfume lemon, powder sometimes in the evening, when it has done too hot. A lifetime of sweets and of attentions. The small Mandarine frightening in the hands of a man who takes to install in a large basket and who dream of adventures but who does not know the secret of its destination: a sauce for a game, the hands of a child who the fiddles with all afternoon and which the spits on the dog, a last small bride in the mouth of a sick who only supports its freshness exotic and which blew its pulp tender in its toothless mouth and me, this morning who me back on it and who reinvent the strip-tease, in the sticking to hair methodically, I discovers its small neighborhoods of armoured, juice of half-moons fed by the lullaby of the sun, soft As the skin of my sister... as small breasts, as Love. Her dress fell on the carpet. My small planet Orange, TE that is any naked, thank you for coming, thank you for everything. I put a whole in my mouth, a thunder of tastes, travel, cosmic visions, Summers far from here, I swallowed his soul of tangerine and its small lunar body, I have
Published on Wednesday, December 27 2017 by kamel ouati