Which Paper Towel Is Stronger

Polar bears (D. Stealth)

Again they accompanied me to the pillow ... The clock bears.
When the fever that had called them vanished, they disappeared with her in the burning cave where I found them every time. Polar Bears in dengue fever?

Fever, this childhood companion. A bike ride a bit too fast, stop in the shade a bit too long and that was it. Too long to read back an open window. Fatigue so common for a child so puny. Everything was concerned. Mouth off like a rocket. Of fields, river, school ... I was taking it one day in the attic where I had discovered, among the banned books stocked by the previous tenant, a cartoon in a thick volume. At the bottom of delirium following night polar bear escaped from a fantastic story had come to populate my nightmares. Repeated fevers, recurrent nightmares, polar bears helped by my alarm became instant regulars in my childhood. Sometimes they accompanied me to kindergarten and high school where I would take my "temperature". No way that the more you deprive me of school.
Attics! We, the children were leading a constant struggle relentlessly to impose our sovereignty over a territory as large of a sudden we challenged prohibitions, advice and affection floats helpless. Whenever they reminded us of the scale stripped, floors rotten, cutting tools and forget the trunks or other wonders put there so that they do not elsewhere, in our hands before our eyes. Windows naked rich potential falls, drafts and colds galore. The brotherhood of adults do not lack invention to forbid us to go where we wanted to just go
- Because they forbade us. !
Light as air, what had we to fear from the floor uncertain?
We do not need a genius or a black perversion to sense the real reason. Strange questions, looks suspicious. How obscure or inexpressible worried because they say no? Their unimaginable lack of seriousness in the conversation "in our ears we had learned very young what they feared. They feared that we were to use the lofts of activities they had not yet given up and that for some, they were updating again as soon as opportunity arose. We do not know the very exact contours but we longed for their intoxicating mysteries We learned not only the contempt of the great, but very young, the case of attics taught us how the great brotherhood of adult relatives, these thirty years old, handled the double talk. The gods were fallible.

We do not engage them all the time, far from it but by a drive cycle, the key-pee became the main activity and the unique obsession with large tribe of children fraternal. Replying to strict rules and unwritten, anywhere according to custom, the children settled wherever they wanted. Girls or boys were using this inalienable right. Without art and without caprice, they watched as much as we ensure their share of battle in the reconquest of the area still banned barns and granaries. Why they did not lack imagination or cunning cunning. Pending the maneuvers they played at the dinette, which we call "playing the mother and daughter." This word came from their mothers. They also stood in the drifts? Without a doubt, but we will need many years to learn. The game: a variant of the universal "live like the great" was held in preparation of meals based on fictitious pieces of stems or broken pottery in small plastic dishes introducing the worm realist representation in the imaginary conditionals.
" Looks like I am the daughter " Intonation Singing was part of the rite.
"Oh no it already me who made the mother the other day .
Gradually the meal took a more authentic to the chagrin of parents finding the raids in the kitchen cupboard. In good weather for pantries there was no fridge so no dairy dessert and boudoir reigned unchallenged monopoly in the realm of cookies. No question of touching the cheese from the father. Too risky. A few dried figs, sugar cubes or coffee beans ...
" Looks like it would be meat " The way recitations poorly known.
flowers, paper, swallow us all ...
From realism realism. ... A key player in the game was invited. He was summoned in general when the wafers were replacing pieces of broken tiles. My brother had a knack: younger or reassuring he was the Father in all games. Very important the father when the game's theme is life and its simulacrum punctuated by the repetitive production of meals.
It sets the table is served a meal, eat, scold the person who made the child, then put away ... and How to sell a meal. ... What had little interest became central.
"Looks like we would night "
At night, lie down, put blankets, spread coast to coast.
At this time the boys were kept away by the merest chance nearby, within earshot. It in need of "chance" for from the palm of the river where we build our eternal sand dam, we find within earshot or sight. It was the chance for couples to dads-moms are very fast and the meals are shipped to dummy pass to: "Looks like we would night " Attics then played their proper role.
What "crimes" were committed in the name of the dinette!

Unlike their daughters always busy rite strong connotations, we guys had other epics Getting to block one day with that damn river sand left on the current riverbank. The material was abundant and found in the bed belonged to nobody. The beginnings were promising. It was a simple matter of speed: advanced construction faster than the water carried them away. Easy ... Five or six, with our aprons for dumpster progressions without sparing our pain. The misfortune was that we start over the width of the course, the bed became more deeply to the other side and the current became more powerful and fast. Farewell ... and dam, dam and lake dreaming, nature resumed her rights. This was in no way a reason to give up. Day after day, week after week, only the weather could stop us, not failure. Rain or farmers and their cows inevitable. These cows then were used merely to come and drink at the exact location of our sand, and that for generations of cows ... It was as if these animals were dictating their laws to men. As if their owners could not take them elsewhere to drink like cows.
Frankly when we looked more closely at a mile and a small wood separating the sandy slope leading down to the water's identical, but on the other side. When nature plays itself Deter projects the future of humanity!
So, as you could not bite every day guns and belts of the American cowboy in the village. Especially when these Americans were American. In this case we waited for the next IM hoping that he has very strong boys. After the week of the arc, off we drove to the day of the sword. " You will hurt yourself, take me right away these sticks! "The ghosts of Roland as our neighbor yelled insults.
__Pfff Durandal a stick! __ We go to the huts.
boxes, crates, cans, newspapers, pickets and ... boards. We can not imagine today a world without plastic. No bag, canvas sheeting. Nothing, nothing but nothing really .... We had the bags in jute, but farmers seem to hold even more than their cow. Stories of potatoes and Jerusalem artichokes. Pffff!
Also, this shortage, the same rotten plank she became a valuable commodity. How many holes in the hedges, hastily blocked by a piece of board for years, they regained their independence? How many walls lean and farmyard, park in piglets they became "intermittent"? It was enough to enrage: son of a carpenter Helpless boards. Once this pseudo-house almost finished, in a mock site you visit, girls were invited. No need to go get them. They were there. At stroke of old curtains and old dresses they had finished the building. Not in its most technical and challenging picket-bearing pillars of shovel handle, or support beam on the tree but, rather, interior side. Indeed they applied to seal the large voids left on the sides revealing who would go to all that take place inside.
And it was left to the dinette.
The space between the house and suffered a narrow road which we referred to the other side in the meadow. Brambles for blackberries, wild plums, space for the ball, tree for reading. Tucked away in the foliage had finally peace, Mom did not see me. Otherwise, she had the genius to organize my "walk in you" or my "are you here to do anything." She did the same with my father. How many times do I have to interrupt a meticulous assembly or plating to keep him warm for the laundry tub to extend ... One law in a day: minimize the opportunities to be in his space ... If you held it. A collateral risk remained, however. Do not light a long time she was quite surprised to see you unexpectedly at a turn of your lack of vigilance
" Oh you scared me " and bam! A slap, she was reassured. In the pre
twenty meters opposed a distance longer than his arm between her and me. The cabin construction was hampered by its lack of the usual obstacles boards and "all that mess there-is-not-in-the-gypsies-you-go-me-clean-off-again". Yet here in front in the workshop for years, long wide boards and light teasing us, in the same place at the same corner, useless and annoying.
" Tell Dad I can take the boards? "
Repeating my request received a response built piecemeal over the years.
- Not
- ....
- Because
- ...
- They are Vadon
- But euhh?

was a carpenter, a former tenant of the workshop. These traits, plotted on the boards, a single plane of a plane he wanted to build. He disappeared
and one day he was found much later in the Pyrenees, eaten by bears!

- We? Here, we're at home, so it's our boards as it is ... by the Bears.
- We do not know, he may have family
... But then Dad when you're dead, they'll keep the bears. ?

For boards was not. It was non.Ce was not for years. I saw them one evening, much later, in a family outbreak of the rout. We were only tenants. Home who was not with us ...
A cataclysm came and offered the opportunity All clarifications.

In a world where the images were so rare, death found its first imaginary representation: it was a world of ice, mountains, and polar bears. Impressive, strange but not scary. Having never known, I was putting my grandfathers without sorrow or pain. The bears were so often at my side. Mundane to the point that one day I break the ban by capturing boards Vadon, was it necessary that the drive "cabanatoire" is urgent!


Was it cries out of breath or breathing? Nobody knew. The back of the house was heard yelling outside. He had to run and rush home to his court, enter through the narrow room where the two men ate and grab the black bakelite. 'Allo! "Then it was be smart and start his memory, no time to rehearse the other end of the line and can not afford to remember. And then it would have bothered.
" is not right to disturb the world .
was a gift from God - the bears? The woman had obtained the phone all the magic of poles and son, were followed by going to school, along with the camera because it was a war widow. War widow? With more than thirty years after Verdun, at the same time as two or three black silhouettes of the town that he had installed.
" Pschhh Pschhhhh " If I had known
then, I loved the sound of locomotive to cross the few feet between her house and ours. Nine times out of ten it was a call from my grandmother. The grandmother from Paris, grandmother gift, grandmother cakes. When we arrived it was delicious hugs and fables. The monkey, the monkey and the nuts and whole host of La Fontaine and Perrault. She left me this gift of knowing fables before kindergarten. The phone is telling us that she had, she sent gifts either. One day, she sent us in Merignac receive huge packets it sent us from England.
" But what is England? "
Cakes, a new bike for me, England! Nothing to do with my other grandmother who never came, her mother except to cry. I do not understand why the phone did not come to our house while my two grandfathers were dead. It took enjoy a moment of patience from my mother to understand that war ubiquitous in everyday conversations in the village, family and the school was a strange thing which took place in two stages, the first and second. The two men had chosen to die "before the war" period accurate enough that my mother taught me again her usual verve by a slap exceeded. " No! Before the war it before the second! "

That day, as usual, I was building a cabin in the meadow in front of the other side of the road my other playground On this road, the cars were so rare that they could play without interruption and when he reached one, we had ample time to grow. One problem, my dog never left me, being deaf and a little miro ... One summer day, a day of mopping bike, I was not there. Brought me a cart, his neighbor's dog that accompanied the school day. Man and dog adored each other. Quite a homebody by nature, the animal liked to follow in the vineyards behind the hill in the grasslands of the bottom of the river and forests of the plateau opposite. It he was constantly spends most stubborn caprice: wear a tool in his mouth. The truck went on to the pitch of the old horse and proud as a deer, pick or sickle in the mouth like a trophy, the dog squad around. A thousand times he did the same dirty tricks: he misled his tool and stung the old man of black anger. " You'll tell me where thou hast laid him vain sacred god? He had tried to pass him any post but the dog did not want it and continued its provocations until he prevailed. The sickle often recurred when he returned home dinner on the threshold of his house.
That day, busy at my cabin, under the supervision of my dog, I had heard down ... pfff pffff Pschhh pppfff Pschhh.
- "Mr. Marino Mr. Marino ! It's your ... It looked like he was waiting: he jumped up and crossed the fifty yards without touching the ground ... Your Mom! "

Owl's Grandma! The construction does not monopolize enough to keep me from watching the return of Papa. Impatience lengthens this time too slow for me. He is returning. Odd, how does he know that I'm here? He recognized Through the leaves the famous boards banned? Looks like he made faces with his funny gestures: a mixture of hands on head as if to protect themselves from blows to hand over the mouth or eyes. " is not possible .... This is not possible "

Mom in the doorway - "My sister died "
Auntie is dead? Auntie's sweet, beautiful smelling? The mother of my cousin who lives in Paris with Grandma?
And Dad always got angry with Auntie. It is now more angry that she had gone there with her father she had barely known Vadon and up there, away in the mountains. Dead at twenty-six years. What is twenty six years?
While the house was filled with moans incomprehensible. What kind of pain could they feel? My brother went out and joined me distraught. Together we handed Vadon boards in their place ... I was angry
Bears. They would teach me death.

Donatien Stealth

Do You Need Hunting Safety Course To Bow Hunt

The man of stone knocked (Th BONNETAT)

In sunlight, which confuses the gray stone studded with white blue sky, the man lay quartered.
legs of clay soil.
In his bed falls, four women stand hieratic dignity of mourners all dressed.

Four women dropped from the vertical drape .... At

imagine, contained in his despair, one of them a patina which is made of limestone chalk.
From white chalk to tell the whites of the existence on the blackboard of a life devastated.
"Come z'enfants of the Fatherland"
They stand, glued back, children, lined gray schoolboy blue, gray blue sentence already.
And watching.

Frozen.
Row

The stone grave, prints and confronts the time in the contents of silence.

the middle, between the women and children, this heap of rubble, stones and masses, the remains of the damage, the crumbs scattered together forever and forever in the gray uniform stand of giant crude and still bearing the man's name.

He went like an eagle in a storm of freezing rain, he went to the North. Then he walked all wings, sank in the heart of the land for gaps. Has pioneered a new way to tread the world, without language or thought.
On the map, travel logs, traces scribbled alone for the battalion.
War it was the song of death! He can never tell it. They burned the earth, ashes returned to each cut, were mixed with the charred bodies. In the ruins, they ran into hell, scattered.

One day someone who was no longer someone has drawn, eyes wild, he was shot.

a stroke.

Today, shaded branches dark, starry, one wonders who cultivates yet the flowerbed on the marble floor.

Women are headed an elegant feast.
They capture the light, the sacred and sacrifice.
They are the ones that radiate on the days that stretch, babysitters steles imaginary ruins blended.
It is they who write the history of man, war and the forgotten. The
losers.

Only the silence of stone for one prayer.


BONNETAT Therese - October 23, 2009 - At Memorial Lodève (sculpted by Paul Dardé)



War memorials pacifist Paul Dardé

Hand Held Electronic Skip-bo Game

And Grandma? (F. Spassky)

Holidays promised to be memorable. We had decided to "do Spain, the peseta during the to consider, even for the working class, holidays Mogul.

The decision had been slow to mature.
Lucien had been explained by Jose fellow factory schedules bizarre, fries in olive oil, the tapas the tortilla sandwiches and the mysterious "Sereno! " was called into town at night to get open the door of the building.
During winter evenings, in the smoke of gypsy-corn and the vapors of plum, regulars had warned against the sun, the severity of the Guardia Civil , the virulence of the mosquito local, state dismal roads and macho pride English. And we had discussed whether to go see a bullfight "cruel, but where toro has a chance ...."

They began by buying a caravan.

The choice was long and painstaking. On the advice of friends already have, we opted for a rather small model but with two beds, one double and one single. We had a room for Grandma, she would travel this time they had managed to squeeze in anywhere.
Lucien himself had mounted the coupling system and had been searching the trailer a week before departure. The concierge had given special permission to park in the courtyard of the building of Billancourt.
Friends and neighbors came to visit, providing advice and recommendations, some gossips criticized the small size. "Lets say, Gigi, they would pull a big trailer on English roads ..." said Lucien.
Gilbert took possession of the premises, heaping dishes, cooking utensils, bedding and provisions, bought pots of geraniums "against the mosquito" and sewed colorful curtains. Annie, the eldest, a 17-year soft brunette wearing a sauerkraut BB chirped, taking poses, it was "groovy." Jojo, kid pale complexion, the grim look and ears, said the top of his ten years as the caravan was "super cool". Even Grandma rather suspicious to such extravagances technology after making the turn and tried his bed, admitted it was "pretty."

They loaded the rest of the material the day before departure, bicycles, umbrellas, floats, perishables. And all these people, exhausted by a year of hard work and took industrial miasma, July 31 at three o'clock in the morning, the direction of a campground near Alicante. José had chosen for them, in English, two months ago, a perfect location not far from the toilets, near the beach and in the shade.

The road was infernal in the day, under a blazing sun, with monstrous traffic jams from Orange. The caravan, however, brand new, a burst tire toward Narbonne. Lucien cursed the bad luck began to change the wheel on the side. Jojo found a way to play marbles with nuts and we started half an hour to find them with a lot of embellished with a few slaps paternal maternal contributions. Granny began to find the time long and complained about her rheumatism while still contributing to the great annoy everyone to scream its transistor.

We arrived at the border in the early evening and it was still losing an hour to go Customs. First sensation of unsteadiness, first contact with the ridiculous patent leather caps the Guardia Civil and a je ne sais quoi in their hardness and that number, entry, was feeling the heavy hand of Franco.
They had stopped to change money. First conversion price in pesetas. We watched with amazement some of these strange pieces were gaps and these tickets cheap paper ... They read the inscriptions: "It's like when even a little French with" a "at the end, we'll manage ...."
Lucien and Gilberte, who had his license, took turns driving every two hundred kilometers. We arrived so late at night that the site was closed and, like others, was taken before the tail gate closed. Then they piled as they could to five in the caravan for a few short hours of sleep.

The next day, in the early hours, they took possession. It unfolded the awning of the caravan, we planted the tents youth and met the neighbors, almost all French. It settled some issues of stewardship and we rushed to the beach to bake in the sun to tired bodies.
Parents sounded by the collapsed travel on the sand after stalling even under a parasol. Annie, all its effects bikini, (as Lucien had found "it could have anyway, get something a little bigger than confetti on the ass, especially in Spain ...) began to see the boys, seriously considering losing her virginity on the occasion of the first exotic vacation. The
Jojo, not tired, spent his time yelling, splashes of water and sand her sister and parents until he was yelling in the original by a stranger huge, red as fire, of a nationality that no one knew precisely determine the moment. He was so hefty that even Lucien, who had an abortion yet nothing, decided to let the insult to France and repatriated Jojo with kicks to the buttocks in the family fold.

Annie did not put more than two days to achieve its ends in the arms of a French neighbor, "psychology student". Dilettante hollow chest talker but he managed to drag him nightly in his narrow wall tent without needing to press beyond the minimum established by the conveniences.
But the young man in question while he was out of sorts, this was not his first attempt. And if it was not an arrow in his studies, however, was evidence for the thing to put an undeniable talent that "great" in states where it does not suspect its existence. Confidences of friends who had seen the wolf had been, indeed, only moderately enthusiastic. Also, before this unexpected revelation, it became very assiduous attendance of his clandestine nocturnal and tireless love.

Jojo He teams up with a band of rogues equally unbearable multinational who spent his time to commit hangable shots inside the camp. At first they contented themselves with foolish enough to pipe water as innocent people who were doing the dishes in the bathroom or hide the clothes of women taking their shower. But it chanced that during one of their pranks they fall on the giant which had dealt Jojo at the beach, and against which the boy had kept a grudge as a souvenir of kicks to the buttocks that it was taken by his father because of him. The man, a Finnish whose skin had turned to scarlet under the effect of the sun, who was there on vacation with his wife and two kids with hair so blond it was white, became their scapegoat.
Once they placed the turds in front of his tent, another, defeated the sardines for a nap so it collapsed on its occupants. Worse, they set on fire one day and it was a miracle if there was not a serious accident. The campsite management interfered, abruptly ordered the parents to keep their kids under penalty of expulsion, the floats in all languages were distributed and returned a few quiet time.

So be it then took the family camping holiday trips habits of Siesta : Grandma got up and trotted the first in a dressing gown to the reception to fetch croissants English huge and rubbery. She made the coffee, which usually woke Lucien and Gilberte. Jojo, all tousled, arose soon after.
The girl (well, ex-) only emerges towards lunchtime, with dark circles under the eyes when we already returned once to the beach. "I think she has a look of paper mache," said the mother, Grandma smiled as sweet and as all the seniors, she had a very light sleeper and knew exactly what to think about the wealth of his granddaughter. All evenings were organized
transhumance appetizing, invitations hurled, went and relaunched. The parties
alley starts immediately after the meal, once completed negotiations on the towers of dishes. Then we remade the world and the victories were watered until late into the night.

But one morning, after the ninth day he came this:

"- Dad, there's Grandma who died ... "The dextral
paternal springs from the depths of the sleeping parental befall a resounding slap on the nape of Jojo in pajamas. Is that clock like that, after the liters of sangria last night, wet themselves of pastis, should not piss off the man ...
- But it's true! replied the boy crying half Grandma it moving, breathing it!
The mother awoke in turn sat limply on the bed:
- Oh okay, Jojo! You're not funny, what time is it?
- But Mom, I swear, it breathes and is more bizarre I'm afraid ...
- Hey, it hears you, Lucien? Go see! It's your mother after all ...
Only a vague grunt answered Gilbert.
"Well I'm going. Jojo is my rest ... "The mother returned

upset:
- Lucien, arise. I think it's serious ... Little was right ... "

It was a shock for the family. Grandma is that she was old but apparently in good health ... In addition, we liked him: always cheerful, kind, adoring grandchildren. They went
awaken the great who first, burst into tears. Tears are communicated to everyone for many minutes. We stood there sniffling and go from time to time if, at times, the same it was not just sleeping very deeply ...
After a while Gilbert returned to earth:
- I go to the reception to know what to do. We have not even called a doctor, she said, recovering herself to cry.
- Shhh, Gilberte, we will hear you. Wait. Stay here, must think ...
- But ...
- Stay here, I tell you! Children, return your tents, I must question your mother!
Annie, this time with Jojo took her in his tent to try to calm him down.
- Gigi, you must immediately returned Billancourt, said Lucien ...
- But your mother?
- Ben precisely: can you imagine if the troublemakers are declared his death in Spain? If it is found they will demand that she be buried here. And how are we going to come and see the Saints?
Gilberte began to cry harder.
- Come, come, calm yourself. Have a drink, "he said, pouring him a glass of pastis pure. And even assuming they accept that the body is repatriated to France, you have an idea of what it will cost?
- perhaps they will suspect us of having murdered? ...
- Yeah, you can get stuck here for years ... With what they say about prisons Franco ... Think,

... They thought so that 'they came to the conclusion that the only way was to hide even within the party, to leave immediately and pass the border at night praying to God so that we do not discover the macabre transport. It was hoped a police presence lowest and flowing traffic. Once in France, we would return post-haste at Billancourt, we would arrange to arrive the night and smuggle the corpse in his bed. Then we declare the death.

Neither Gilbert nor Lucien had the slightest idea of rigor mortis and methods available science to determine the date of death, but they believed that their plan would work. Anyway they still saw no other possible.
remained the kids. And then the neighbors of camping. Would find an excuse. And why not, just a death in the family? It

Briffa children. Jojo was too shocked to protest, but the big one, spent the first emotion, found it bad. She had taken a liking to Radad with his student and forced to stay like this, in full flight, his education at the thing, it put him as regrets, feelings of incompleteness ...
Gilberte was responsible for spreading the excuse of family bereavement we have learned early this morning by phone from a booth in France. Canard that it served both at the reception as neighbors, while the rest of the family frantically folded the tents and camping equipment.
We managed to take the road towards noon. Grandma had been left in his bed under the sheets covering of linen and various clothing.

Shortly before midnight, after nearly 700 kilometers of roads barely passable English, the tension inside the family car became maximum. It was first decided that this would lead to Gilberte who pass through customs, but gradually as we got closer, his nervousness increased so that Lucien had to take the wheel, but he himself ends up not not carry off. If Annie, shared the sadness and unspeakable fantasies stood roughly correct, however, who had Jojo awakened after a long nap became increasingly hysterical, crying and screaming, which further increased parental stress. Fort
appropriately, at the exit of a bend, the sight of the border post of La Junquera and line of vehicles waiting their turn him literally cut chewing tobacco, he almost forgot to breathe. A thick silence settled in 403.
The customs stopped the car, claimed the documentos the vehicle and the ID, looked suspiciously on the occupants and made open the caravan with a blow torch quickly and he verified it was circular empty of any human presence, gave the papers to the stunned occupants in the car and beckoned to ride.
French Customs was even faster: "nothing to declare" they passed without incident.

nerves could finally relax. It continued the journey on real French roads and they began looking for a café to recover from his emotions.
At the pike of the day they found a "road" that never closed. We parked the car and his trailer in the parking lot.
Gilberte, Lucien, Annie Jojo and entered the establishment. Morale was already better. Another ten of hours away and it would be almost out of the woods. One could look to mourn, to bury Grandma, finally, everything is normal in these cases ...
ordinary breakfast proved insufficient, it ordered the croque-monsieur, eggs, solid food . Gilberte, who was behind the wheel took two extra strong coffee. Jojo came back into life before an order of fries, a few shots of Lucien agrees in addition to its white omelet and asked for a second big-sausage sandwich butter.
So it cheered as the surviving members of the family left the coffee shop " To ensure that road, "the National 9 in the morning already very soft, 10 August 1961.
After a few dozen steps towards their team, they stopped incredulous, open-mouthed and motionless, pressed against each other at the sight of their incredible 403 lacked a caravan which had evidently been stolen.
This lasted several minutes and it ended by saying that Jojo:

"But ... and Grandma? "

Frederic Spassky.