Very Watery Cervical Muscus

The sky to the ground ... (Th BONNETAT)

Small new plaza


Lycée Joffre - Montpellier

17 hours - the two wings of the large metal gate ajar.

A stream of high school sports.

Then the alley beyond. Their legs

trolling or fly the bright soil.

A roar of tumbling drum on the arteries.

hasty, two figures support each other, just finally, though far less than their conversation.

This again Roc and Emmanuel pursuing one of their dialogues.

"The Dialogues of unsearchable Roc and Emmanuel" thunders and the wind in the trees.

Yes, a sort of enigma sound, a rhythmic humming by walking, by not hesitant, jerky, heavy or suspended.

No pause, no silence.

dialogue a little stocky, blue-eyed - short neck - tight jaw-forehead-with a large ungainly gestures loose - with head slightly bent - nonchalant approach punctuated by a knowing smile .

Emmanuel and out of the Roc-class philosophy and Plato, The Phaedrus and the Symposium they remain quite through.

Do not worry, they démordront well ... one day ... great question, Question desire ... a whole constellation of issues echo.

From

words and feelings.

A kind of mystery one-to-lo-gi-that that that case, the desire to love and all the stuff, a fairy that falls on you with wispy blond hair or a brown creeper that wraps his gestures awkward.

Yes

two names embodied in faces that sing, steal, fold.

may be held slender, close to gravity.

For a Chinese puzzle: Lisa and Sarah.

A look from afar, one could quickly match each other as a game agency, assembled by similarity between the brown and blond, big and small.

Chess, checkers or chess.

It is not.

A game without rules.

No logic. Neither

reflection.

The Other.

Unlikely.

Sham. Captive. Essential

. Vain.

Able to appear.

disappear.

A crossover is woven, a pas de deux loving his own colors, or revives extinguished.

As anchor points, attraction, and Leakage Fault ... . A unique checkerboard

between Roc and Liza, Sarah and Emma for this nascent desire.

"Love is the son of Penia and Poros, Wealth and Poverty ..." Roc launches

"... poverty ... poverty ..." echoes the voice of Emmanuel.

"Yes, yes of emptiness, poverty and misery .... style goodness of the soul .... Taratata Taratata ... .... now looking girls everything they want ... everything and more ... mechanics with hefty fine pieces ... well oiled, well ... a chrome Ferrari somehow ... you know, Lise, for example, it is finally you see, Ferrari it consumes ... Understanding, surprise ... the comfort and allow IN-DE-PEN-DAN-TE ... there are no rules of the game ... believe me, two steps forward three steps back, she tightrope ... and sometimes I expect it to break the jaws of the war ... and war ... "said Roc peremptory raising shoulders of a small bearing.

Emmanuel listens, nods, his gaze turned inward myopic.

He thinks Ms. Bellanger, the wise teacher and sassy, straw philosopher.

It breaks a silence and a nice sow disorder seem like much.

... She and her ideas.

In the wake of a perfume.

He feels physically next to Sarah in her back that makes his neck, his hands and wins already hatched some trick.

"War as a killing ... dying as Phaedrus argues ..." Emmanuel ventures.

"No way, rather being duped fool, go and run ... because, you see, he finds that Plato is very ugly, very ugly to yield to the pleasures of the body etc etc ... the word .... lustful, you speak a word, yes yes that the life of a man worth living when he contemplates the beauty in him, purity, beauty and I do not know what when he contemplates IDEAS ..... our nature is to bend ... and not about to commit hara-kiri ... "cowardly Roc pecs pumped.

A s align the words slamming, pulsate and have already extended the momentum of the body.

upside down.

Emmanuel knows them because apparently the crux of a male accomplice.

They appear in the heart of the argument.

Where dangerous conversations become intimate or trivial ....

A sort of skirmish between men.

True.

He pulls out his pack of cigarettes " You want one? "he proposes in his last reserve.

The words of the devil he keeps to himself, barely breathing as he feathered lip.

Ash red off at once.

Who already burning mouth.

He feels wildly and seizures of the body in the burning of the red and the fire.

Especially do not crucify the reasoning reason ... or the wildness of instinct ... wake up constantly, more unpredictable, find Sarah, into that strange region, be it fluid, works at his side. Feline

which surprises her.

Roc does not swallow the smoke like him: he looks like he sucks up blood.

With the bumps.

There is always a bit of rage in his matted hair.

And his body hits, passes through the air. When he joined

Lise, he speaks louder. Many

.

Life becomes beautiful and brown.

It looks like a warrior from a tribe with a comb and spurs.

He speaks with words like who stumble on a path stony.

A mass of land that rolls, whole.

Never bias. Although

opposite.

With each conversation, and Emmanuel Roc 's invented a life, also burn the dead wood.

Every conversation is born, the fuels and consume the branches rise up to heaven sealed the same totem pole. Then fly

incandescent.

On the plaza they pass through the booth sounds of music already outdated, barely audible. It all entourne

yellow leaves of Ginkgo biloba that dot the land of gold crowns.

There's always here before the rapture of the passage of an orchestra, the shortness of time between dog and wolf, the short winter lit lanterns .

can just imagine a waltz and the time before turning around just at that point.

At the other end of the cons-tree-lined driveway and games for children, Lisa and Sarah are standing at the Fountain of Three Graces in clear drops of water pépitent.

Finally ... in the clear light of nothing ...

Emmitoufflées in long plum and red scarves, they watch the horizon, a little shriveled.

Like sparrows or tits.

Lise hopping from one foot to another and Sarah clenches his hands, press against each other fingers Rosis escaping from striped mittens.

ago lurking like the cold ground and cut their isolation on the walls of the Opera. The immense building

then draws the spectra of the end of the day wandering drunk to go home, sit

, silence at last.

Just a place or a time clock on the sovereign of the place are the witnesses of repeated gestures

steps, come forth.

Both fell silent, his eyes strained towards the horizon, having said, I hope that they-will-happen-soon - o-what it is cold tonight-ah what do they do? They too are your boots - you think it will snow-. 30 and 17 hours through the night begins to collapse on the spot.

They are the eyes and voices that reveal: Lise's eyes are two round balls, sharp .... it often ashamed of their cheeky, they say more than it wants, so she repeats the cache. His shyness is

any rag paper, sensitivity to watch.

His eyes, a thrown ball as candy or honey acids.

And his voice-clear-night sailing almost inaudible vowels.

gently sweeps the words safe, reassuring, also absent.

dotted.

Sarah about it expands its blue eyes at infinity.

hemmed when Naval mooring there.

Sarah is talkative, she likes to say its a little voice singing to Lisa and the others what she sees, what she hears, her emotions, she swallows words and Gouley precipitate a torrent ... do not talk with Sarah, Sarah says and hear his story like that.

Who captures and captivates the south wind and all the ancestors combined.

There is already a safe magnetic play one or the other is a strange siren song.

And Ulysses who advance the foresee a danger that makes the bonfire of the Phaedrus, the Symposium and knocking down two or three parades. From

those we studied before, they should be ironed in the head, sometimes from father to son, generation to generation. Those who say

how it should happen, how this should not happen and how it will happen.

come so close to each other, it stands therefore, invisible to cross a border, with smells and screams, areas, territories, some of which open entries, others barred them like sentinels at the door. Many figures are meeting, brew in their chaos sounds and senses of Roc, Lisa, Emma and Sarah.

Already in the tub.

"It quail" Roc launches in the preamble of its most resounding stamp.

"Go with Solange and Louis Oust" he connects.

The icy wind rushes into the cave of Creamy Café de l'Esplanade, adjacent to the Centre Rabelais.

A tornado breath hot and vibration fills the coffee hut.

Life staggers the tables ... and it speaks and it screams, smiles and hails already Solange and Louis have been well identified as the four there.

must say that ...

With their gestures, their grandchildren, they exchanged books and poses of each other.

And ideas that pulsate, and foam gush from the quiet bar.

ON THE MEAN.

Solange in her place behind the counter, she and Louis looks.

And never misses a beat.

She knows they ask four coffees in searching their purses, as Roc say it is too expensive even on how much coffee you said but how it is not possible 10cl hot c is not Solange to offend you, but frankly, and besides he has no money on him and Lise look full of horror, embarrassed.

Solange sits at the cash, always in the same place for fifty years so for fifty years.

So it commands respect, it feels good old lady.

Sometimes she gets up, blows a towel on the counter and then sits down for a secular movement.

course, there was the coffee, the euro ... the cost of living.

His short man and speaks.

He is there with it all day because they are together all day.

A little.

She knows the passage of time and tears.

She never tires of the surveyed feel their coffee.

An animal, a force of nature she thinks, a savage in a cage!

is always a man of the plateau.

There was that day ... and all those other days they don like beads, a rosary funny howling against the right, left, and everything that happens on the ground in the air.

This Day May 28, 1960, there were many on the Place de la Comedie. This idea

taking the train to Montpellier to demonstrate. Nightlife

by the two towering cliffs overlooking Millau.

The door opened and they entered, fifty years ago.

The same place with the guys in the fight all together.

They came from the limestone plateau, the crash of stones, among the black branches that are spaced in a transparent white.

He looked mutely eyes, face and anything else that ..

She dropped the cup of coffee clasped in his right hand.

Zim-boom.

Above the voices, he looked a funny eye shape and the awkwardness and said top, finally, loud and proud:

"It is the sky on the ground. "

Teresa BONNETAT

"The belief is now widespread that everyone does not follow that its interest.

Then the Love is a cons-test.

Love is this confidence made randomly . "

Alain Badiou, philosopher.

Left Shoulder Pain And Breast Cancer

La Promenade des Anglais (Sandro). The oak

Both say immediately, I am a VIP.

Once I decided on a whim, to return again in Nice Promenade des Anglais, things went very quickly.

I put my car - which almost never leaves me-the plane, and events unfolded as usual. I'm sitting in first class and the hostesses are friendly with me. Sometimes a little nerve, because it keeps asking me if I need anything.

On arrival, even carousel: I got my usual preferential treatment. Agents with fluorescent vests, walkie-talkies and ear headphones escorted me through a hidden path to avoid the crowd. Not that I really fear screaming fans, but I hate most people, that's all.

I am VIP, I tell you.

I do nothing like everyone else: I took my car right out of the terminal, while other passengers were still queuing for get a taxi or rental car.

It was late afternoon, the sun was hitting hard again, but with the sea breeze, the heat was bearable. My car was spinning quietly at low speed along the dikes fortified stretch of rock on which the runways of the airport.

I headed to Magnan and California, the breeze in my hair. It is a kind of gig, my car. As usual, I passed right by all the woodlice locked in their beetle sheet, like ants stuck in traffic. I back the files without flashing the headlights or honks, smoothly. To California, I am squarely mounted on the wide asphalt pavement which is the Rose Walk on the twelve miles to the Baie des Anges. I slalomed between the planters, the palmetto, the jogger in fluorescent pink and ice itinerant merchants. I was full throttle and the people most often parted without a word on my way. Some just turned away his head, but that's all. They see that I'm from another planet, they dare not say anything. I am VIP, I can afford and that's it.

The sea was rolling its rollers not very clear, spray spat lacrimal of showers. The noise of the tide was like a sonata in sonotone old gentlemen walked deeply bronzed in shorts, elbows to the body, trying to live a year or two longer than what the statistics predict. They cried their drops as others mourn their anger. They were a bit silly automatons: they walked like marathoners in swaying like old belly dancers. When they reached the airport, they were turned around and went away in the other direction, the white foam of hair accolade by the sweat on their brown wrinkled torso and tanned by the sun.

For them, we felt although it would be so until death. Casino Ruhl go to California and back.

I watched them absently, but a bit intrigued nonetheless. They had a lightness and vitality that I had was a case heard. However, I could not to envy them.

After the Negresco and the former Palace of the Mediterranean, I approached the street Massenet, where I once lived. I crossed the Promenade and parked myself in front of the terrace of the Mississippi. " The others run twenty minutes before arriving to park and a drink. I do not. I park in front of the terrace that I chose, that's all. I am VIP.

I installed without waiting for me means a table, and I ordered a bottle of Bandol rosé. The boy asked me if I expected someone. I said no, now I picols alone is best. He shrugged and withdrew the remaining glass from the table prepared. In Nice, it's like in Paris, the waiters no longer surprised by anything.

I threw a glance round about me. Things had hardly changed in 25 years. The "Mississippi" always harbored some English or Japanese tourists and traditional women in the back, face smooth strained to bursting with Botox and coups scalpel, which contrasted with their hands and their scabbed neck pleated front as Delon when he takes her angrily.

There was also waiting gigolos, who drank bottled water because they were going to need all their resources to reach the end of their night. Also some old tango dancers dressed and pathetic, waiting for tea dancing.

I drank my Bandol conscientiously deciliter per deciliter. These things, I do not ever do it halfway. Then I launched a 50 euro note without waiting for change, as do the thugs, I handed the contact and went back on "the Prom".

arrived at Magnan, to the station "Elf," came back like a boomerang that night in February 1985, the year it was so cold and snowy where palm trees are frozen on the Promenade. I was a steward, I went home after the last night flight, the 0 hour 17 from Orly. I was spinning on the Promenade to find Nina and the third fire, the English Aston Martin got off the road, then the spine. The last words of a free man who crossed my cerebral cortex were "ah, the con". Afterwards, there was shock, noise, noise rather endless and varied.

This should be a colorblind English, came to paint the beauty of the Baie des Anges, which confused the colors. Or a gardener on a spree which confounded the blood orange traffic lights with ripe tomato. It seems that he too had blood in his alcohol.

From Bloody Mary.

In fact, the shock was bloody, but I have not met Mary. No doubt she gets on that appointment. However, I was received with open arms in the ICU and longer still in the rehabilitation pool.

And then I changed my car. I Sameva an electric motor 25 kw, 7-inch wheels, automatic transmission, full options.

I drive with one hand, with a "joy stick". You bet. Let me make mine.

I am VIP Very Impotent Person.

To see him there in the June sun, the crossroads seemed very mundane, almost harmless. Yet he had done away with all his Nina, the ones I had more. Fleeing my friends, my job, my legs, my neck, my legs to my neck and the rest. A vicious and devious, that one. I do not recommend it.

Still, I took the sidewalk promenade sea view, and I put the throttle. Yes, the head of the children I did not, I swear that I drove at full throttle, eyes closed and the wheels straight. I waited

striking of English. I dreamed that I sprayed whole skewers. Not in the old Aston Martin green tweed cap, no, their descendants, the ruddy tattooed in neon tank top, belly prominent, and lots of beer. I sprayed with my racing car, as surely a combine relentless swallows and spits out the corn grain far with its telescopic arm. I sent them into the stratosphere finely chopped pretty brown that I would, the necropolis of their rump arched toward the sky where my rod from sinking further. The juice of me that did not flash and never will create quilts blonde girls to play the Nintendo DS by listening to Amy Mc Donalds. Neither of boys with whom they play football in the cool evening after a barbecue on the lawn, dressed as Spiderman to catch the spider that has the ceiling.

I shipped them in the planet Saturn Nebula and breakfast on the grass, kicking carelessly thrown in metal cans, the distant planet of stairs down four to four.

And suddenly, the shock threw me forward. Something compact and hard, but I felt immediately that this was not an Englishman. I was disappointed. When I opened my eyes, a little blood dripping from my chin on my shirt, but I did not suffer. Anyway, long time ago that I feel nothing. The obstacle

was a kind of giant plastic bin, with the inscription: "Have safe sex and green. Please put your Used condoms litter Dedicated In The Box " (1).

A British tank tops. Decidedly, they are too strong, these English. I could never quite possess.

The Municipal Police had arrived by bike in the meantime and had begun to draw Minutes degradation of street furniture.

The one who held the pen could not hide his embarrassment at the check mark and the type of my vehicle on the box its counterfoil. But I had

more anger, Bandol was getting seriously its effect and he became my friend.

I closed my eyes again, and English, I decided once and for all send them a walk.

Sandro

(1) "Have safe sex, and ecological. Thank you to throw your used condoms in the trash placed for that purpose. "