What Kind Of Binocular Does Bourne Uses ?

Malhubac (Ph. RENEVE)

Do not push much of the old Malhubac to make them tell the story of the oak glade. The versions vary slightly from one family and one generation to another, no longer knows how old she is, a century or two or ten, but through the ages as an old myth.

It is always reported with a certain pleasure, as if it was a nice property of the locals. And yet.

When the stranger arrived at the clearing, he saw that the forest, not mark a clean break, faded just a slow progression that finally a space where there was no longer the tree that the presence of other vegetation.

In this clearing, as sometimes in these grassy oasis in the middle of long tall scrubland, the impression was more that of a lack, an absence of the forest as a place with its own existence. It marked a solitude, a nothingness lost in the sea of trees, as troubling as protector.

But in middle stood a large oak, which the traveler hated at first glance. He hated the trees in memory of a bad fall in his childhood that had afflicted with a stiff leg that laziness exasperated and was instrumental in the sadness of his life and the darkness of his thoughts. At a ripe age, he had found neither happiness nor wisdom and traveled to fill a void as heavy as his limping gait.

Also oak, which evoked a little tree to which he owed his misfortune inspired him there from the outset a raging antipathy. Solid, black crooked branches devoid of leaves at the end of winter, it was a challenge to the area of the clearing, he filled a wide load greatly. Man, that solitude was accustomed to speak only said aloud the thoughts that assailed him vengeful more beautiful.

"should you down, be harmful. Or rather t'élaguer, t'ébrancher until the last branch, set fire to your trunk to look at naked hot days and nights. "Hatred swelled his chest, his breath short and showed the violence that barred his mind. When he found

a little calm, he inhaled a deep breath he found smelly, charged with a putrid smell sweet and like a decaying flesh.

"You stink of carrion, and more! "He cried. By challenging the tree, he looked up and saw the top waving a branch of the sky high and black, as if a gust shook. Yet, the day the wind had fallen the night from the forest and did not move while the light fell. This unusual movement in the calm income was marked by his growing leaves rustling, even though the branch was completely naked. The neighboring branches were soon won by agitation and soon the whole tree was shaken in a noise storm.

"Damn! Cursed! One day I will cut off the evil contained in your boughs! The din became terrible and branches twisted into a frenzy of tornado impossible.

light suddenly lowered, and a blue haze sparkling rose from the ground. A gust of icy wind assailed the clearing, but the fog was not dispersed and continued to climb as a milky sea in the dusk, thickening like a viscous pitch. A sulfur stench pervades the scene, and the branches of the tree began to crack and break in a terrible crash.

Then a blinding flash and a huge clap of thunder crashed down and the tree toppled.

The next day at dawn, following a hunter with his dog on the trail of a boar came out of the woods into the clearing. He had a great fear when he saw that the oak, which he had always known after father and grandfather, was lying at full length shot, roots to the air just spotted a black earth.

Looking around, he noticed that it was almost as tall lying down than standing, as its size was equal to its size. Its huge antlers was a big part of the clearing and branches to the ground, many broken by the fall, forming a maze so tight that he did not immediately the man's body.

The facial features relaxed, he seemed asleep. Not a drop of blood was visible. The four members were missing.

Philippe RENEVE

- oOo -

Buttercream Frosting; Buy Wholsesale

Monkey (F. Spassky)

This happened with one of those tropical evenings commonplace, as their name implies, occur only in the tropics and only at night.

Mr. and Mrs. Grandemanche, French cooperation mission in Gabon, taking the air inside their house while listening to classical music, all doors and windows open. The boy had finished his service, they were alone.

battery when stopped concerto, a monkey appeared in the light of their terrace, a chimpanzee adult who wore a necklace which hung a broken chain, the animal was rotated in the hand.
Dazzled by the light, he paused a moment on the doorstep and went into the lounge. Then he began to systematically try free wheelchair, ranging from one to the other, waddling.

Needless to say, Mr. and Mrs. Grandemanche were terrorized. They had heard scary stories about the monkeys to bite formidable and colossal force. This might be tamed, at least it was for someone if it was relying on his collar and chain. Paralyzed with fear, However, they had the presence of mind not to scream or make sudden movements.

The animal, fortunately, did not seem aggressive, he eventually chose to settle in the rattan sofa and continued looking around, blinking. One moment he took off the wall above a picture of him to see if there was something behind and then, having satisfied his review, he crossed his arms and said in a loud voice: "I would type out a Beer .. "

At the time, Mr and Mrs Grandemanche believed to be a hallucination, but the monkey repeated distinctly," I I would type out a small beer .. "

Sir, imagining a strategy that would have allowed him without scaring the animal access to the phone to call the police, forgot everything ...

- But ... You're talking about?

- Yeah, I mean: you do not have a beer, sometimes?

- But .. A chimpanzee does not speak! How is it ...?

- It's like this: I'm fed up to the monkey, to force it becomes painful, so this beer, you?

- Uh, no sorry, "stammered Madame, but coca-cola ...

- Oh no, I do not drink this crap chemical! ... A Suze then? I like Suze, I finished the glasses to my master.

- Yes, I think, "she said, getting up to go and prepare.

As she passed the monkey, the latter the detailed emphatically
- Say, you are not interested in copulating with a chimpanzee in the prime of life, once again?

- Please, a little respect sir ... uh ... the monkey ...!

- Casimir ... My teacher called me last Casimir. A real con: whenever he had guests I had to do the chimpanzees, eating bananas, making "hoo - hoo" scratching armpits, climbing trees, pffff ...

- But, what do Then the monkeys?

- Ben like everybody else, they eat, they sleep, they want food, they copulate, they bicker. But they do not "boo-hoo," by breaking down under the arms except when asked.

- Your ... Suze

- Thank you my little monkey, "he said when posed with Ms. Grandemanche much apprehension the glass before him, you're sure to chimpanzees in the prime of life?

- Uh ... no thank you Mr. Casimir.

- Well, well, unfortunately. But you're wrong: you have no idea what can be done with four hands and when one is provided with a baculum

... - (...)

- In fact, if I came to your home, it is because of music. The No. 1 Rachmaninoff is fine, but be it said without offending you, the No. 2 has been well above ...

- Because that, in addition, you, you know something about classical music?

- Well, yes why? But you're lucky not to be forced to live all the time in Africa! They bore me with their Gabonese wild music ... Bang, bang, tam tam ... From the stew ...

- But ... uh ... All monkeys are like you?

- That is to say?

- They talk, they listen to classical music, all that, what ....

- Pfff ... Obviously! Finally, no doubt. We do not talk about us ...

- But then why are they hiding?

- That's the problem: if you want peace, must be the monkey. Imagine, they would discover that we are smart, what would they do to you?

- I do not know ...

- Come on, they would send us work at the plant. At the chain! You can imagine the number of bolts that can screw with four hands working together? They require us to make the sly devils at the top of scaffolding, digging down the mines ... thank you!

- But why do you do this .. uh ... what outing?

- I decided to ascend the social ladder. Already in monkeys-monkeys was somewhat of a higher type, a leader. But when these bastards of humans - with all due respect - have managed to capture me, I realized that I should take the plunge. Issue of consideration and standing, so to speak.

- And how do you do?

- Already, of course, I must m'accouple with a human. Have as a human female, it is class. Ours are capricious, smelly, do not of tits, have no idea of good food and, frankly, for the conversation ....

- (...)

- For your lady, I was serious all the time ... She would do a good deed. You may be polygamous?

- No, no, monogamous ...

- A girl, perhaps, that I will make him a child?

- Yes, she stayed in France, but no, good heavens, how awful!

- Why she likes not hairy?

- No, that's not it, but anyway ... this can not ... You are not the same species!

- Yes, I understand. But I intend to assimilate completely, do not worry I'll put on clothes, learn the Marseillaise, make my poop where you have and all .... I tried my clothes last master was too great, but with touches ... The shoes, by cons, then it sucks. You think I could be making special shoes?

- Maybe from thick gloves? "said Madame.

- Ouali .... From gloves! She is not stupid, huh, your female!

- But, finally, why do not you want to stay with the monkeys? said Sir, you will be unhappy in the midst of men!

- Are you kidding or what, you've already visited the gorillas?

- Uh, no ...

- More idiots, are not ... likely more. And not one gram of delicacy, thugs, whatever ... the kind of rap ... or listen to CRS ...

- Gorillas? but there are hardly any!

- Maybe, but what do you think he is it like monkeys? And baboons? No, but you saw their mouth? Macaques and then, for example? ... Z'avez never macaques as neighbors, it shows!

- Why?

- They screaming all day, coming band you prick your business, you pass quail ... they are unbearable.

- And the bonobos?

- Yep, bonobos ... Real bastards, those ... They try to make you believe in an intelligent monkey, but monkey way: the social-traitors ... Do beware of them, one day they'll foutront a brothel without a name, you will not understand what happens to you ... Already, AIDS, in your opinion, who forwarded it to you?

- Noooo?

- Ben though. There's plenty of queers among bonobos ... No, eventually I'd rather see more live among humans. But free, normal, whatever ... I'm tired of snakes, elephants and warthogs. Here, wildebeest, for example - just the name, eh? - If you knew how stupid they are ... There is nothing to be learned. You approach a little, pffft ... they fuck off! How do you build lasting relationships? And a giraffe, you cause to imagine a giraffe? just for the look in your eyes must Grimes in a tree ... And I will not say the crocodiles! ... To them you're just a snack. No, frankly, the jungle is not that great ...

- So you want to live like us?

- Yeah, man ! My dream is a little blonde, bubble bath and a coffee with toast ... and a cold beer from time to time.

- Because you drink too coffee?

- And why not? ... Say, you think that by showing that I can speak and I'm smart I could have papers?

- Papers?

- Yeah, papers ape-man, identity cards, residence permits ... I could take a very French name: Casimir Chain ... or Casimir Panza, what do you think?

- Uh ... Here, I do not know, but the laws in France Sarkozy, in my opinion ...

- Yeah, I know. Sarkozy then this is not a good toubab ... It is against immigration from Africa. And Wallet, there, such ... But notice, I am not Muslim, and I could give him more services ...

- Services?

- Yeah. "Special Adviser to the President in animals" ... You know nothing about it: when I think there are idiots for wanting to protect you from the lions and elephants ... You bet! From all this crap. You just keep cows, sheep and chimpanzees, that's all ... The rest is just as harmful ...

- Um ... I doubt he is interested. Brigitte Bardot, perhaps ... Frankly, you'd better But ... stay in Gabon say, and if you return to your master and now that you explain?

- No matter ...

- And first, who was your master?

- Dr. N'Gotto. You know why it has monkeys in captivity? He failed the exam, he has never been a surgeon and he trains on monkeys ... I will not advise you to have surgery by him!

- Oh? Is this possible? You come home Abdoulaye N'Gotto?

- If I tell you ... Ask him one day his degrees ... You see, a life of monkey, sometimes it has drawbacks ...

- Um, do you think I phoned him to explain? your case? I have his home number somewhere ...

- Pfff ... I'd be surprised that it means something ...

- Let me try ...

Mr. Grandemanche rose, took a moment of the play, but returned with a loaded shotgun. He fired two shells at close range on the monkey. Then he picked up the phone and called the doctor N'Gotto:

- Tell me Abdoulaye, that shit stop you there ... Yes, your program to stimulate the brains of chimpanzees ... It gives them ideas: there was one who had escaped from you, he wanted beer, an identity card and, in addition, he was seriously considering skipping Monique ... Come find his corpse.

A monkey that speaks! And then what? Songea ... there, hanging up the phone.

Frederic Spassky

Central Appraisal District Scottsdale Arizona

Rififi in a rope (Ranta)

"Rocks ... rocks! ! ! "

I just have time to go head in my shoulder and try to stick me a little more to the wall, as if that could be used for something that already deafening roar is heard. Sneaking on my right, I see two large blocks that go bouncing break into pieces ... Stones? Duh, the mountain, yes!

I was hot, it's not gone away: a few meters beside ... My first rock fall, my baptism. I would go so far as to say that is worth celebrating, but I now know what it feels like nothing, you do not feel anything, we did not have time: either you are on the path, or you did is not. The "objective dangers" they call it, you speak ...

- "Oh oh, it's going up there? For answer ....( a grunt from the author of the landslide). Me okay, thank you for asking ... "And this

jerk who does not respond. I venture to take a look carefully, it is safe but fear retroactive arises, to find a rope, the yellow, is severed. It's boring, one of two strings cut off, amputated twenty yards; not really a problem, but still ... The rope load also is cut, one that hoisted him, "his" bag. And the bag is somewhere in the rubble of the scree, one hundred forty, one hundred fifty meters below. I was almost in a smile. Because the history of the bag is a stumbling block between us Môssieu decided he would not his bag and should be hoisted, with the argument: "Since I'm here to make me happy, it is beyond question that I climb like a weighted ass, you know ... matter of principle "he told me at the foot of the wall leaving a string of his bag, intended to raise.

No, no .... The rope will get stuck at one time or another, not counting the time that we will lose to hoist the bag at every stage! "I'm

try to reason with him, I even started to get angry, Mr. did not budge ... Then go for a charging cord, goes to waste time and of course, as expected, it has already caught three times .... Three times he took down to disengage.

So I take a look and I see that the block above the relay has gone .... and for good reason, this one just brushing against me. In fact, apparently there were two blocks ... This con has managed to turn two blocks of a hundred kilo each, that way, just by moving up above .... He has not even looked to see if they were unstable or firmly secured to the wall. And most importantly, the presence of these blocks to a relay is the ultimate confirmation - from crossing the previous length, I have a near certainty - that one is not in the right direction: at no time did I read in the guidebook describing the progress of the escalation, there was talk of unstable blocks in a relay, a journey of about thirty meters under an overhang that is frankly the kind of Something You forget to write a guidebook or so the author wrote it on a day when he was mistaken in its mushrooming.

"-Vache! "

Finally, he tells me. Vache, that means I'm self-assured, a cow is a strap that passes through the harness and after which is a snap.

- Ok, I get the yellow is off, hold me on the red.

- No, I go down (it's how it goes? To do what?). Releases the red, I put a reminder with.

- No, I go.

- I do not promise you, I say to release the red!

He assures me no, he does not want to make sure this idiot! The worst is that I have no doubt, I have no choice.

"My bag, should get my bag, I have my camera inside."

- me or, Your device: oh, for what he must stay, eh? ... And then we will not back down, crossing the other way should not count on was a choice that come out on top.

- Do as you want, I get off.

This guy is really starting to break me. I should have been suspicious, even for me. Yet he seemed nice and competent. I met him a year earlier, in the Gorges du Verdon. They had exchanged addresses noted when we lived in the same region. Oh sure, there had been two or three lanes together to test themselves, talked about our achievements and our hopes of climbing, in short it was tame. All that to say that the day he asked me for this escalation, I said yes without hesitation.

must say that climbing is not easy, I mean organizing a climb, especially for me, because the "jumps" in my case, only two, in three months this year. The rest of the time I can not, my other sport, with four workouts per week takes me all my time. So once you have eliminated the so- would like but we can not point at issue it remains to find partners who have the same desires. And that is not always easy.

And me, this way she held my heart. Is that this is not any race is the great René Desmaison himself who opened it, then walk in the footsteps of the great René, even if it is a way of difficulty modest ... Its only flaw is that she is not busy: first because it is nothing extraordinary, and secondly because it is far from all it takes a good day to just get to his feet. But for me it has great quality: it is a "Desmaison" affordable by average climber.

Desmaison, Kid, I fed her stories. Me, the boy from the valley I had tinkered with a harness of leather straps, I even painted over Lafuma; rope as a rope, a doll or a teddy bear acted as "clients", a as a hoe pickaxe, a mason's hammer, nails and pegs for files, plus the hessian bag and an old blanket for every down, and helmet ... one of my great grandfather, one of the war of fourteen, too great helmet, its board continued to fall on my nose. The scene of my exploits: the old walnut tree in the garden of my grandparents. Ways I have opened hundreds of its trunk, its branches: Ravanel and Mummery, short, straight lines, the Walker, the Grand Dru ... I repeated them all, so much so that I finally turned his trunk colander with my nails and my files.

I feel that we will soon, as I'm about to get angry for good ...

Already

yesterday afternoon at the shelter ... Refuge, finally rather hotel-restaurant. It is a few tens of meters below the chairlift. Peter is the boss. I knew the year I made the "boomer" in the station to pay me my studies. Like all employees, I took my meals (benefits), and my beer, my money on personal home. It leaves marks, it creates links, five months dutifully spend their pay in booze in a purlin. M'enfin Pierre looks happy to see me. Must say I have a little "bump" in his view, the capacity barrels of beer being inversely proportional to my wallet, and paying its debt ... even if it is enriched with elbow grease!

Except that Peter did not really like my sidekick - my alcoholic smoky, just like it's more qualifiers.

It started on the terrace: Môssieu it rolled a tarp ... The tarp is fun .... It's the cool guy ... And with its large brown curls, his blue eyes that look washed out without seeing, eyes that sail in the distance, the look of one who has exceeded the contingencies of low our world, my toto had the full panoply of the trap and cons connes.

Well, the Pierrot he had seen others. Just think, in the resort! but there, on the terrace of his crowded bistro, right in July, it started as a way presentations. Where he blew me was when he ordered a bottle of Crépy four o'clock in the morning. Then a second an hour later, a small tarp from his store and more and Toto is transformed into what it is: a Tartarin crown ... And ears to listen to his tartarinades Sure enough: come therefore, open July 1 neophyte audience there to stoop to pick up ... So much so that the third bottle I found the local dives, local familiar as I already explained. It was better for anything this time, wash dishes, bowls and make sprigs longer than undergo the shame that his presence imposed on me.

"- Do as you want, I get my bag back down."

This guy is sick. The passage that we just completed is impassable in the other direction, except cone and go to "aid climbing" and again - and anyway there was no stirrups, so ...

So it's simple: I have five or six peaks, five nuts and a dozen slings; with my rope I'm going to make a loop of approximately ten meters by way of self-insurance and I will continue alone. It will take me time, up-to-end loop while posing pitons and nuts, I detach posing a fixed rope, go down to retrieve these pitons, cams and slings, hoisting me up onto the rope, and redo my loop and now, ten feet in ten meters ... I will not be out of the way tonight, I went to a camp ... Bast, in July the nights are cold, and then do not I start to think about it ... No, it is urgent to remember. To remember what I know of that wall.

I'm not in the right direction, and there are three other tracks here. I removed a row, she is on the spur southwest, well away. Rest the other two. Will: which is the crossing at the ninth length under an overhang? It's funny but it's always when you have to remember that nothing comes back to me .... It school, blackboard, looking how much nine times in September and poems ... .. and conjugations ... ouch, ouch not think about that. My

gray blouse, the smell of chalk, desks with their inkwells and master ... How he was already known? I see his face, his rule has left me with painful memories at your fingertips, but his name? no, nothing, nothing at all ... Ah yes: I believe Mr. Marchand ... His mustache handlebars and navy blue blouse full of tasks. He had to cycle to school, an old biclou he'll always be against the chestnut tree in front of the yard And even one day we had flat tires with safety pins and it was caught of course ... Damn! ! ! not think that God, the way, reminds you what you've read about it! Nothing, no memory .... nine times seven? uh ....

And then I feel guilty: Toto let alone in the journey ... Shit ... Not too bad, when it is con con is: all this for a camera that no longer have that name ... Oh, oh, there must be a hash in the bag too ... That must be it, hash, yeah that's right, he wants to get his shit .... what tip this guy!

Good, and Rene, he would do what Rene, he would think about what? Rene, he would laugh and say: "In the mountains we not stand still, it rises or descends, but still not swallow flies to the moon ... bober "Well, c'mon ... Yes, but ... There's no "yes but" ... growing! ! ! Yes but the Toto alone in the crossing ... In fact it began, peg it dry there.

Actually I was scared to continue as one that I feel guilty, and if it is I do not even feel guilty at all, I just need an excuse to join ... And then it myself returns, this is it I remember, I remember everything, everything I've read on this wall: there is no crossing under an overhang! ... So ... so I'm doing a first without my knowledge? true, no one in the walnut from my childhood?

I open one lane, me ... Dom ... and alone at that! A first solo - at last in part, but still - the holy grail of the climber ... I will have my name next to a track, my name engraved in the firmament of the greatest mountaineering ...

not get excited, man, must first get out "your "Way, because otherwise your name will be engraved on a tombstone you will get it. Oh, oh ... but I'll find anything earlier? because ... it's still not quite normal that there is no way here, since the time I hear that everything has been done has been done ... Damn

and rezut, anxiety returns. "In the mountains we not stand still, it rises or descends. Yes that's it, thank you Rene, I'm going. Sort this out and it is only the Foo: all this for a piece of shit ... And then the glory will not share it, two roosters in a henhouse that makes one too. No need to excuse it : Full steam ahead ...

------------

Another yaw right and I will leave the forest, there I see the hotel stone. I walk whistling, my heart is light, I have a name for my way, a name to the con, it's likely it will be "the piglet suspended" as a tribute to Foo ... It will be much obliged to know it is for him once I said. And then my guidebook, I already wrote it in my head ... Well, the first nine lengths I have a little trouble remember, but the other ten ... Ah .... the remaining ten! ... Maybe even an article in "Mountain Magazine"? Surely even! Come, nineteen lengths TD (very difficult) it is trumpeted, to hell with modesty.

Here, Peter is on the terrace, it scans. He looks at me, puts a hand over her eyes to see better, hesitates and then decides to walk to meet me. I always whistle, I'll play small.

- Ben .... what are you doing here? I thought you were back down, at least that's what your friend said.

- Hein ... but you're talking what Peter? "

- Well, your friend ... He told me that you had waived off the track, not that you felt that you were right back down the scree and you'd have followed the cascade to reach the car park. So he climbed alone, and he says he opened a new channel, ED (extremely difficult) "

Buddy, as he says, he is on the terrace, a bottle of Crépy before him his audience around. On seeing me he gets up, comes to me by opening his arms wide and said

"sacred day, eh? ..." And it

: kickin ball eh? ... Toto is lying and pissing blood. I also piss blood, I opened the front on his teeth. But damn, it feels good.

Ranta

___________________________________________________________________________________

Ontario - License Plate Violation

A considerable bandwidth (Sandro)

It was hot, too hot for the season.

I think it was an unreasonable time, like the rest.

I took a last look round to my living room, a little older, a just typed.

It was a nice room design and modern art, with the coffee table and library frosted interlaced iron verdigris. An artificial flower violet crystal, things like that. The old Modern. Alain Bashung a disc on the sofa, a work of Beckett still open. "Oh, beautiful days," it's called. Editions de Minuit. It can not be invented. There are also bills piling up and radios pulmonary piled under an old issue of Les Inrockuptibles.

I slammed the apartment door behind me and it made me nothing special.

Nothing, I tell you.

In the elevator, I cast a sideways glance in the mirror, as we start to prepare those who are suspicious of something wrong.

I put a light jacket with gray cloth. I know why I wear this one and not another, but that does not concern you.

On my hairless skull, I screwed a leather cap, which gives me a look halfway between Ticky Holgado and Hanna Schygulla in "Lili Marleen". I also have eyebrows to Nosferatu, that is to say that I have none.

And I went out into the street, where I have taken everything from the front as imprudent swimmer drinks the cup: the heat of the April unreasonable, car horns, the backfiring of motor scooters, pedestrians ran like ants after who knows what.

I headed to the Parc Monceau in the rue de Prony.

The place was full and buzzing like an egg from various peeps, men, women, children and birds tangled together in a chaotic and unreadable. At times, nevertheless, the robins seemed to outweigh the creaking of scooters.

I walked slowly - because I sweat quickly right now - looking for a free school.

I finally found the shade of a gazebo.

In my inside pocket, there is a white envelope and empty. At first I wanted to write a letter, but I quickly realized that I had many people who write. Friends, family, I too walked behind their box, even with no wind to stir the flowers.

So no, no letter.

I let it flow a little time, counting to a hundred. This is my hide and seek with me, a casino without gambling. At fifty against one, you lose. At fifty, I left my bag plastic bag gave me Tony. A friend, Tony, even if we do not give anything for a hug. I know that some take for a negligible quantity, but I know we understand each other without speaking, and that's what matters to me.

Last night he came to have coffee with me, apologizing for not being able to stay. On leaving, he just filed a plastic bag on the coffee table, murmuring: "The thing that you asked me."

Then he went to hello mimicking the U.S. military, at least a somewhat stylized version free, because you have to say that Tony is an artist.

And now, the bag and its contents are now in my sweaty palms on the bench rotting, I look around me with the air of someone who does not do it behind my sunglasses. While my eyes are a clump of rhododendron, my fingers decipher the butt of the gun, read the bulges of the barrel, the barrel and after his final rear sight.

course it's not very serious to make it to the Park Monceau, with all these kids playing, but is it that life took me seriously, me?

counting. A sixty-six, she came into my field of vision, obvious and improbable.

A young woman with a very dark dress that was too white sore eyes, thin as a climber, nimble and flexible. A face indecipherable blur body.

She waved at idle, as the curtains move when you leave the window open.

She advised briefly jostled a bench where children chocolate fingers and the little face smeared with jam.

Then she vaguely focused gaze to an elderly couple who took the sun, with eyes octagonal Brazilian lizards. But it changed its mind.

And finally, Tired, she led her not to my bench. Its not that I counted. Four.

Then three, two, one, and she stood before me, as a palpable blow, with a frown vaguely disgusted, a little tired.

She inspected the bottom up, then the reverse.

Resigned, she sat by my side, after a furtive glance at the cleanliness of the bench, gauge its potential impact on its white poplin dress.

It arose as only cats do, flexibly and through, having toured the place.

was a cat, for sure. I almost felt the scratch.

I tried to breathe calmly, breaking down the movement well as a good lifeguard teaches those who will drown.

I always hand closed like an oyster on the butt of the Ruger, a clammy hand a little now, with my movement frozen in motion as a skater on the ice frozen television replays. No way to release this stuff, the reason for all this. I heard more noise, nothing, not even right.

I resolutely silent, as are the pain or madmen who have abandoned say what happens to them. Time has sunk, I can not say how it was leaking like crazy bathtub overflowing.

And against all odds, she has spoken.

Without turning his head, eyes straight ahead.

She said quietly:

- "It's hot for a Monday."

I shook his head gravely, mimicking the one who understands. This sentence appeared to me a depth and an undeniable relevance, mixed with a humor that brooked no reply.

That's all she said. And then she stood up, walked away waving to the rump and the dress, her thin tanned legs struggled to keep twisting his heels on the uneven gravel.

"It's hot for a Monday." That's all she said, but it is true that there was nothing else to say.

It was a considerable bandwidth.

I told my plastic bag, I stuffed in my jacket and got up in my lap, slowly and without much conviction.

I watched walk in the park to the gates of the output.

I know I'll be back tomorrow.

A fresco.

Sandro