Mature British Ladies In Girdles

Monologue with crab ... (Kirnette)





Diosphos painting (attributed to) 500-480 BC. AD:
giant crab, leaving the marsh,
bit Heracles in the leg during his fight against the hydra.

Because you secretly colonizing my body back

Because you do not understand how much I hate you

And that enemies like you

Sly, hypocritical, vicious

They turn their backs

Cause you do not even deserve the name of "enemy"

I can not but discuss

Break, break the chains with which you don 't encrusted.

Life is stronger than any

And even if one day you'll take me

You'll never know how

Thanks to you, I loved.

Yes, cancer, I'm talking to you, I imagine

Your physical and moral ugliness m'exacerbent

And I dream of you steal my death

What a gift I'd

If the time comes, I had this death to someone other than you.

The sun shines in my head

And you will not let you not take its place ...

Kirnette

Kirnette passed away July 25, 2010, crab won again. We think about it.

Replacements хентай

Marco (Ranta)

There are days we can not forget, the good, the bad there are plenty, but that mark a life, not it's not.

was one of those summer days when the evening does not come until twenty-two hours, where the light stretches where I thought a kid, I was hoping that the sun forget going to bed one of these for the day when the heat that the earth has accumulated slowly rises into the sky, and as others go to the pool after work, there was much to be here. Two, three times a week every summer for several years, starting work in the morning, I loaded my bag and I dreamed all day, without shame, the promise of these few hours of pure pleasure.
There were, there are still, for all tastes, all levels, all ambitions. The choice is yours depending on his mood and can choose to be very sore fingers, sweating all over his body, feeling her heart more than search Instead, seek his breath, and then proceed slowly.

Dozens of lanes, proximity and easy access have popularized this wall. Five kilometers after leaving the national borders the highway, and after three hundred meters from a gravel path there is, it overlooks the "refuge" pompous word for snack bar car, instead of story all the exploits ... Must say, it goes for some climbers as hunters and fishermen: how have I crossed that these heavyweights in the evening in any shelter, you narrate stories unverifiable, unbelievable, make dihedral, overhangs of fifteen meters, peaks, cliffs, lightning, snow storms, ropes cut by a rock fall, relays wobbly, exhibitions terrible ... And the next day found folded in half at the foot of the wall, overcome by a sudden and inexplicable gastric disease, no doubt due to adulterated pie consumed the previous day and the forced death in the soul, to give today.

But not Marco. Him, no, it's not like that. Him, he climbed in Nepal, Peru, Yosemite Park, in the Dolomites ... Ah, those wonderful Dolomites! ... He has all the great classics Alps to his list of rock, ice, mixed ... Marco, we grew two blocks away from each other, our shorts worn in the same school, then our jeans in the same college. And then, and then after he did what he always said he spent the practicum trainee guide and the guide. Marco is the friend of good and bad moments but strangely little has climbed together. Must say that his spare time he spent with the other "templates" that I and its projects, achievements, me inaccessible. He nevertheless makes two invaluable gifts: the normal Dru and especially of the "Walker" to large Jorasses. "You see, he had said in speaking of this last of five additional breaking everything ...." Me or ... of course ... except that "five sup" in a race of seven or eight lengths is not "five additional" to the "Walker", the length of the track, the repetition of the difficulties its commitment, its dangers, stress it causes me to have made it extremely difficult ... And yet, I've only climbed in the second ... This does not prevented later skull suggest the west face of the Dru or the "American "... The same Dru With a small smile, he answered: "exaggerating ... we'll see. "

Marco, specifically, I just find the length of the third relay. I am not surprised more than that he is engaged in this 'down'. He often takes beginners 'advanced' to see. Is that this route has a peculiarity: the fourth wall length is changed. A vertical fault of forty feet cut in half. Therefore the de-escalation of about three meters, then go for a small plug left hand, palm up, up hips, down his right leg at the left to find a patina taken from the passages and free swinging back his left leg at the same time pivoting 180 degrees to reach the tiny platform at about 1.5 meters on the other wall. In fact, the gesture is far more impressive than technical means but many climbers on blocking this step: it is a little justice to know if .....

No, Marco I'm not surprised to find it here but his climbing partner, more exactly his girlfriend, then yes and then completely even. It's Caroline.
Caroline, his wife, his wife, the mother of his children. North Carolina comes from the suburbs of Lille and saw the mountain for the first time at age twenty, he already has eight. A mountain she immediately loved, like most people who come for the first time. This mountain where she met Marco. A meeting to Zian Mappaz and Brigitte in "the great rift" in Frisian-Roche. With the drama "The Gaillands rocks" as in the book, in Chamonix. She too, like Bridget, came strolling along the lake that adjoins the wall and take a look at the roped engaged in the tracks. Marco, who framed a group day trainees had inadvertently thrown eighty meters of rope on his head, relaying the latest recall ..... Well, on discharge, this relay, the bottom of the wall is hidden by a small forward and had, as we do every time, shouted "rope! "In the running ..... But this warning is for those who know ... It was then followed by trade unkind to both sides, which had not prevented, or more surely promoted the next day, then two days later, she was there. And, leading to another ...

Carolina, she accepted his passion, but deep within her, she did not understand. A passion, it is not explained, it does not make sense. She was seen and is subjected to others, to his relatives. He's gone so often climb abroad, it is so often missing with customers that it is she who supports the household. Times of drought, early years, it was she who was boiling the kettle and as she often said: "Woman as a guide, you're better off like pasta and potatoes and you learn quickly the art of accommodate with not much "... She did not know that in saying that, she paraphrased the wife of the great René Demaison. And, since all these years, she has always refused to try to climb ... hence my surprise at this relay.

arriving, I realized immediately upon seeing Marco finish installing a piece of rope over: it had jammed, and the latter due to the leap in the opposite direction, move in this direction rather than cotton, (I had to do it once and I did not forget) to come and put a zip line. Here
elsewhere who set off again for the other end of the rope. I saw he was not roped but his rope was attached to just one of the loops of his door hardware. Oh, I know that Caroline is unable to provide and then, Marco ... here it is ... even sneakers; this way, he had to do it a hundred times. One day he passed me to the second length, and then doubled in the last third of the sixth length ... So I'm offering him gently roped it and I assured him, the smile and the wink he sent me by way response is exactly what I expected.

He did not scream, or at least I do not remember. I only saw the rope coiled at the foot of the relay, start to scroll faster and faster, then crashing ... Cries there was, those climbers who use the trail at the foot of the fault, then mine and those of my climbing partner, and those of Caroline who understood well after all that had happened. I stayed with her in the relay, no way to leave her alone, and my climbing partner has been a reminder to see - the longest point of his life, he told me then, you never know ... The helicopter Emergency Preparedness arrived very quickly, he was returning from a surveillance mission but without a doctor on board, besides, there was no need of a physician.

Ranta

Under Armour Kid On Bus

It was raining in Aachen ... (F. Spassky)


I had no trouble identifying him, he was one customer at a table in the bar of the Hotel Ibis where we go. One type air overwhelmed behind his round glasses, who felt the difficult months and for the essential injustice of the world.
The lawyer had warned me he was angry with his son for years and although he came especially to Aix-en-Provence to see him in jail, Eric refused to meet him.
He rose to greet me, the smell of a chemical toilet water enveloped me cheap. He asked me if I wanted something to drink my coffee and ordered the boy who had nothing else to do than read Le Provençal.
It rained on Aix. Was often the case around Christmas.

- "Thanks for coming," he said in the introduction. Eric's lawyer has told you why I wanted to see you, he says, one of the few people to be aware of exactly what happened. You will be asked to testify without doubt ... But I ... I think I need to know ... I am on bad terms with my son, it has been five years since they had talked more. But he was a boy rather calm, collected. Withdrawn same. I do not understand how he could do that ...
- It is not indiscreet to ask you the reason for your disagreement?
- Oh, he did not support my divorce with her mother and my remarriage even less ...
- What exactly do you know?
- What the newspapers said. And the lawyer ... My son was killed with a hammer a director of the Bolshoi , Alex Kovalev, while the band was in Orange for a series of performances. Eric worked for the assembly of sets or something like that. I know no more ... "

I plunged into the club chair and lit a cigarette. It was a time when smokers were not yet subjected to harassment hysteria.
I was prepared for this meeting and I was pretty sure of what he was going to ask me. But there in front of this distress I had a moment of uncertainty: how to tell him that? It was uncountable ...

"- Um, I said in my throat. To explain, it will be long. Without the context, we can not understand. I hope your son will fare without too much damage and he will be sentenced with the stay, the more preventive it has made on the day of his trial.
- I have plenty of time. Rather, you ...
- OK. The starting point for me is IMS ...
- IMS?
- Employer. It is a box that makes the events, but specializes in sports: tennis, golf, rally cars, racing cyclists. I knew they had never occupied before the tour to organize a troupe of 400 people with Opera artists, sets, costumes, technicians ... How have they had the exclusive contract with the Bolshoi? It's a mystery ... But they were four months in Europe with three weeks at the Theatre Antique d'Orange : Mussorgsky (Boris Godunov ) and Prokofiev's ballet, Romeo and Juliet . They smelled the coup of the century: the poor Russians were in total collapse after perestroika, their miserable wages, but the artistic quality intact. Getting to know the market economy, they were willing to sell for 10 times less expensive than a Western company of repute. And these bastards IMS does have a bite. Despite this ridiculous price, they behaved like rats, scraping every penny. I'll spare you the details, but you can not imagine ...
- For example?
- Oh, everything ... For example, the contract did not provide one meal a day plus breakfast, for example, instead of being housed in hotels in the vicinity (in Orange there is almost nothing), they had dug up the jock students from an agricultural high school of his empty house in the summer, for example, they provided them with towels so rotten that when you wiped it was covered with fluff, but the most serious concern is that Eric directly time: they calculated that paying all Russian technicians had to be fed, housed during their stay they returned much more expensive than hiring on the spot technicians and stagehands in the entertainment they would pay at the time worked. They therefore required the Russian teams scarce. Heads basically. Technical teams were so mixed. That's why they needed a full-time interpreter with them, among others. It is work which had been vested. But beware, this is not my job. In civilian life I am Russian teacher here in Aix. I came across an advertisement to which I replied, I was a test of Russia by telephone and was caught.
- was well paid?
- I believed in Initially, we used to pay for teachers. But since I checked, no, it was far below the rates normally applied. But I did not care, I was free in July, for me it was the extra pay, I love classical music, opera, ballet ... and plus it was fun.
- So they have also hired Eric?
- Yes. I do not know the details. I think they were first hired a team leader used to this kind of work and he undertook to turn to find guys ... with your son. It was his job?
- I do not know ... I do not know nothing from him for five years.
- What appeared to me fairly quickly is that the intermittent French hired by IMS were far too few. Finally, it would perhaps have passed, if there were some circumstances both aggravating and aberrant ...
- ...
- First, IMS wanted to return the rental of the Roman Theatre and they had variety of performances interspersed among the performances of the Bolshoi: Véronique Samson suddenly, suddenly Chris Rhea, Patricia Kass once. Probably a question of availability of these people ..
- And so it was good for intermittent French? It was their rest days, right?
- Instead ... As there was not a day off, it was necessary, for example, while removing the end of the performance of Boris Godunov , from around midnight, so that the team of Patricia Kass, who arrived on next mid-morning to settle. And it was not until the end of his concert and his team have everything packed up in order from 3-4 o'clock in the morning sets of Boris Godunov!
- They could not do during the day?
- No, because, and this is another amazing detail, the theater of Orange is a historical monument and the town was in the contract, had demanded that the visits continue, it remains open during the day from 10 am to 17 pm to the public, except those parts closest to the stage . At first they tried to go back anyway during the day. Until the day when a projector has escaped from the hands of a lighting from the top of one of the two towers for the lights and it increased to 10 inches from the head of a mother who was visiting the places pushing a pram with a baby inside ... She made a scandal of course. IMS had to give it ... But that's not all. These towers, just ... They were kind of scaffolding for twenty yards, there were two sides of the bleachers to support a battery of floodlights. The first time that Russian lighting are mounted, it was a day of mistral, they stopped halfway up, came down and decreed that it was too dangerous. Total, of course, only the French were ascending ... No fools, these people ... In general, anything that was dangerous or difficult, they delegated them.
- Professionals are probably more cautious ...
- Sure ... Added to this is that Orange is an outdoor theater and lighting settings can therefore be done at night ... Clearly, it would have to double the staff that this happens without problems. After two days of this treatment, the French were unhappy intermittent become zombies, rags, sometimes sleeping 2-3 hours per night. Your son, like ... You can not imagine how this scene is large, especially when you cross over 150 times in the day ... With fatigue, there were accidents, one serious enough, a broken tibia and fibula. And it has not been replaced!
- So because of fatigue that all this happened?
- No. Finally .. yes and no. It was a circumstance ... heavy. But there was more: the whims of the director. At the Bolshoi each show had its own. With that of Boris Godunov , it went pretty well, the trouble began when the corps de ballet and Kovalev had landed to Romeo and Juliet . It was a big guy, kind old gentleman, with the best dancer-star and thought he was a genius. He came, even at rehearsals, in clothes unbelievable: I remember a white leather dress with fringe, probably found in Las Vegas such a huge hat musketeer. It was ridiculous. But a tyrant. Technical director who was a Russian really nice guy, adored by his team, got a whiff: the Kovalev, he recognized talent, but the guy was undrinkable ... "

I broke for a moment finish my coffee had become cold. Eric's father drank my words literally. He seemed fascinated by this world that I did discover, though far from the usual glitter ...

- "From the first day he began," I replied: it calls a rehearsal for 17 hours, closing time at the theater audience, and declares that the scene did not please him, she stretched in width, it is empty, it takes the trees to furnish the following evening for the first! Panic in the French camp, here they are now calling all the nurseries in the region to find enough trees large enough, to seek an open truck and move them back, two here, three somewhere else ... To 20 hours the truck is back with a score of trees in containers that are difficult to install, using cranes on the scene. In the evening, the rest of the stage is set and I'm about to pass with a lighting sleepless night for setting the lights.
- Because you also did nights?
- Forced ... Once there were mixed teams, we needed an interpreter. Besides, I can not deny that at first I struggled with the technical vocabulary: a stilted, a Legs or gobo, I did not even know what that meant French ... But to make the nights, we took turns, we were 5 performers in all. That night was my turn.
- This is where this has happened?
- No. But what happened that night was significant. Behold: the ancient theater of Orange has a peculiarity. Sometimes, some days of strong Mistral wind, the wind blows, it is trapped and begins to swirl, creating a mini-tornado inside. It was around 3 am, we had just finished setting the lights and the wind picked up. Increasingly strong. And at one point, the tornado took place ... and everything has buggered off: trees on the stage, the decorative elements that are torn. We all rolled on the ground, trying to remember what it was. A sheet of plywood I passed just above the head; a miracle there were no injuries among us. That lasted a few minutes. Everything was on the ground, except oddly, the famous tower in scaffolding. The stage was covered with decorative elements broken, toppled trees, earth spread out trays. A disaster ... But a disaster that was repaired before the first which took place the same evening ... So early in the morning, it wakes up the machines (as they call them) who, it must be remembered, have completed their work very late. The Russians have shown themselves this time really cooperative. But now the director requires a "Connection" in the late afternoon, so that reassembly and cleaning should be stopped. When the rehearsal ends it is past 19 pm and there is still work to install the decorations. In particular, this: it is a gigantic cross of 5 meters high made of a lightweight wooden frame on which is stretched a canvas painted dark brown. And staging plans that we can erect it in a few seconds for a "black" light in the midst of an act. Russian technical director explains thus through me, what to achieve the three stagehands who are responsible for the case. Your son is one of three ... The French point out that the Russians, as this cross is designed, it makes a beautiful veil, and if the wind picks up again, we may well find it in the middle of the public ... The Russians agree and support the idea that it must be well secured.
- Hum ... a cross that we must be able to stand a few seconds, which must then be securely attached and easily removed at the end of the act ... Easier said than done, right? ...
- indeed because, in addition, it is a fact that you do not already know: the ancient theater of Orange is a historic monument and it is out of question planting any nail, any peak in its venerable walls, is strictly prohibited and monitored by city employees particularly fussy. It is permanently attached to a small number of peaks and all the troops who come to work must make do with what is ... So here they are looking for an effective system. They try one that does not work. Too long. After more than two hours of effort, these three boys, exhausted by sleepless nights finally succeed in extremis : it is so late that the theater doors are already open and viewers begin to enter! I still remember their tools in hand, trying to breathe at last ... That's where the drama was played ...
- ...
- Yes, the moment chosen to appear Kovalev with his court and say something in Russian technical director. The latter then approached me, looking annoyed: "Listen," he said, I do not know how to tell you, but Kovalev wants more of the cross. ... They can take it apart. " This is where it happened, when I came to them translated. The others I did not notice, but Eric was tripped. He still held a hammer in his hand and jumped up screaming on Kovalev was talking with a costume. He broke the skull. It took five people to subdue him. When the ambulance arrived, they could do nothing, the guy was dead ... Your son was like a madman, had he not been mastered, I'm sure he would be hard on the body ... The cops were forced to handcuff her hands and feet ... That's the whole story ... "

I was silent. Eric's father was sobbing, the boy behind the bar had stopped reading his newspaper. He looked at us oddly ...

We parted on the sidewalk outside the entrance to the Ibis. Night had fallen and the tinsel is reflected on wet pavement. I looked away for a moment and get lost amid the passersby, carrying their Christmas shopping.
Something about his figure reminded me of Eric.
I thought I'd have to try to visit him in jail ...

Frederic Spassky

Gprs Settings For Sidekick 2009

The Soloist (Fergus) Vertigo


The soloist had big feet. I had noticed when she entered the scene, despite the long black dress that fell together on the ankles. On the stroke, it amused me, and then I detailed his face teen brunette in bright light, her plump arms, her neck adorned with a red beetle, his virtuoso hand with nails fuchsia. The girl, a young Polish tour with a university in Krakow, was rather cute, and not at all impressed, despite his young age - seventeen years ago - to tackle the formidable Violin Concerto by Brahms. In its place, I was scared to death, unable to leave the least harmonious sound of my instrument. It is true that I have always been emotional.
Taken by the concert, I had forgotten this story feet to concentrate on music.

Three weeks had passed since the concert. That day, a Friday, I left my wood shop a little earlier than usual to follow a game on TV in the League Cup: Toulouse-Auxerre. I love football. I myself have practiced for many years, young first, then in a district team, before a torn cruciate ligament in his right knee will force me to abandon my favorite sport.
I was ensconced in my chair with a can of Heineken when 18 shortly before 30 pm, the bell had sounded. The Toulouse came to get a free kick well positioned slightly to the right of the opposing goal. All eyes on the screen, I had not moved a hair. The bell was rung again, more insistent. The free kick shot, I went to open cursing against the intruder, intent to dismiss, unless this is a beautiful girl, like Monica Bellucci and Penelope Cruz. As I sensed there was no more than Monica Penelope on the threshold of my apartment, but a big lanky blond verging on forty. Two steps behind him stood a young guy like southern powerful jaw. The tall blond handed me a card barred tricolor. Captain
─ Lagadec. And here's the lieutenant Angelkovic. I beg you to please follow us, sir Bizien. ─
But ... I ... What's going on?
A howl of joy, supported by backticks a foghorn and approximate matches of a trumpet, filled the room, the score had been opened.
─ Sorry about your match, Mr. Bizien, but we absolutely need your testimony. Please follow us to the Hotel Police.
─ I guess I have no choice?
─ I'm afraid not.
Four hours later, stripped of my belt and my shoelaces, I was placed in custody in a cell. The nightmare began.

Leaning over his notes, the judge strumming a nervous finger on the edge of his desk blotter. There was a silence in the office of lead, only disturbed by the breakdown of the microcomputer of the clerk. The magistrate leaned back in his chair.
─ Well, "she said pummeling his pen, let's recap: On Sunday, June 5, late morning, a couple of walkers discovered near the fountain Ivy St., at a place called Le Stang, the body of a young 16 year old daughter, Aurelie Jezequel. Her clothing disheveled and her panties torn seem the thesis of a sexual assault. The victim was not raped. During the struggle that was opposed to his assailant, it appears to have been thrown against the fountain where his head violently struck a corner of granite. It is a result of the shock driving the right parietal bone. The unfortunate not get over it. According to the coroner, the death occurred on the evening of Saturday, around 22 hours.
─ All that is sad, but ...
─ You speak when I will call you, Master, "said the judge dryly. My lawyer
huddled in his chair, grumbling. The magistrate spoke again:
─ begins a difficult investigation, lack of physical evidence and witness. One point, however, is firmly established by the gendarmes at the time of the attack, a blue car, brand unknown but unrelated to the town, is seen in different places by three people in the neighborhood. This car was traveling at slow speed along the road leading to the fountain of Saint-Ivy. It is led by a dark man can have between thirty and forty years. I remind you, Mr. Bizien, you own a Ford Mondeo Blue - blue cosmos precisely - whether you're brown and have celebrated your thirty-seven years last month. Until then, I grant you that it does not make you a murderer ...
─ I do not tell you, Madam Justice! exclaimed my lawyer by opening their hands in a theatrical gesture.
─ course, but things get complicated, Master Carval when discovered among the twenty objects collected in the vicinity of a fountain small keychain with the arms of the city of Dubrovnik in which the investigation will show that it was offered to your customer by his nephew Tanguy returned from a trip to Croatia with his parents. This key is overwhelming, Mr. Bizien: it shows that you know the fountain of Saint-Ivy. At first, you deny it, before admitting the obvious. You Arguez then a visit during the month of May at the Saint-Michel which you want to see, as a professional project, the ... the ...
─ The carved tie-beams, Madam Justice, specifically the engoulant.
─ Indeed, Mr. Bizien, the engoulant. The visit, you walk around in the undergrowth to the fountain Ivy St., very close to the Saint-Michel. Then, you say, you lose inadvertently keychain your nephew. Unfortunately for you, it will be found there after the murder of Aurelia. Added to the blue car and the suspect's description, it starts to do a lot. And it's not over because the police are discovering, investigating around you, that on several occasions, including banquets, you're annoyed, not only verbally, girls ... I
─ drinking.
─ Drunk or not, and although there was no complaint, it is clear from these actions, confirmed by your ex-partner, you always had a strong taste for what it calls' fresh meat "...
─ Prosecution of a jealous woman, threw Carval Master, raising his arms to heaven.
Indifferent to the interruption, the judge continued:
─ I do not hide, Mr. Bizien, that all of these elements constitutes a folder to load even more overwhelming than you are unable to provide an alibi for the evening June 4. You claim to have attended that day to a classical concert at the cathedral, in other words, sixty kilometers from the scene of the tragedy. I only ask you to believe. Alas! for you, nobody remembers you have seen, neither the two women attendants at the cash nor the spectators were heard following the appeal for witnesses ─
... Damn, I repeat that I was there, Madame Justice, I was sitting in 5th place on the left, right next to a big pillar. I even lifted two or three minutes during the break between the symphony and the concerto Wranitzky Brahms, to drive the ants in my leg left.
─ Assuming this is true, how do you explain that no one has noticed you yet sparse in assistance?
─ but I do not know, Madam Justice. Except that it was a gathering of old. It is for this reason that I put a little aside. I hate being mixed with the old, do not care that the drone. Add to this that I have a physical yad'ordinaire everything, the kind of guy who always goes unnoticed, and whatever he does wherever he goes.
─ Yep, that's the problem. That said, you're not very observant, Mr. Bizien. In a little over an hour and a half, you have not noticed any viewer not notice the smallest detail that could certify your version ...
─ My client was arrested three weeks later, Madame Justice! In three weeks, the memory fades details soon.
─ Nevertheless, this amnesia is unfortunate, Master Carval. After all, everything your customer remembers is two things: the scarab of the young soloist and the presence of a viola player in the Asian Polish training. The trouble is that the viola and its eastern facies were very visible on the poster for the concert. And more violinist whose bust, printed inset shows perfectly the beetle. I remind you, Lord, that the poster was plastered across the department more than two weeks before the concert, your client has had ample time to absorb it ... Mr. Bizien, do you really no Another memory of that evening, including musicians, since it appears that you do not pay any attention to the public?
─ What do you want me to say? I ironed hundred times the concert film in my head. It appears that the flutist had unkempt hair and the soloist had big feet. Big deal. For the rest, I'm searching my memories to migraine, no significant incidents do comes to mind.
─ sorry for you, sir Bizien, but we need to search again. I give you one last chance to prove myself, without any doubt that you were at the cathedral on the evening of the concert. You have three days. After this time, I will sign the order for referral to the Court of Assizes of the murder charge before the attempted rape of Aurelie Jézéquel.

I lived three nights of hell in the jail. Three nights of nightmare, populated by civil parties hateful, ruthless magistrates, jurors in the eyes injected with anger, pointing my finger avenger. Three nights of horror where the spectrum of the victim had, after long sessions of torture, cut my head a sword with great jubilation.
I had a pale complexion and sunken eyes upon entering the office of the judge. Released from the handcuffs, I sat opposite her, Master Carval by my side. True to itself, the magistrate was impassive. In a few moments, the clerk would give me reading of the court. I was resigned: we do not fight against fate! That's when things took an unexpected turn.
─ Could you describe the clothes you wore the night of the concert, Mr. Bizien?
aback by the question, I took a few seconds to respond.
─ I ... I think it was a cotton polo ... Yes, that's right, a polo shirt with striped red and black.
─ I, monsieur Bizien, the testimony of musicians achieved under a commission rogatory in Poland. In view of your picture, none of them remembers you. With one exception: one of the two clarinetists, Jerzy Boniek said to have watched someone close to resembling a column. The musician, unsure of himself on the face, is in contrast to the formal dress: the man wore a shirt striped vertically with red and black. When asked: "Are you absolutely certain? "Mr. Boniek replied:" It is even because of this that I noticed this person: what are the colors of the football club of my native village, near Katowice. "
I was stunned, unable to make any sound. A slight tremor shook my hands. Naturally, my lawyer rushed into the breach:
─ Well, that changes everything, Madame Justice.
─ is also my opinion, Master Carval, especially since the story of the solo foot bothers me. So I did an audit. The result came from Krakow fax it less than two hours: Milena Zelenkova, the young violinist, shoe size 43 ½ to a size of 1 m 65. The soloist did have big feet and no one had noticed this characteristic. Except your client ...
The judge appointed a paper on his desk blotter.
─ ... Accordingly, I have signed just before the hearing, an order of dismissal ... You're free, Mr. Bizien.

Fergus

Camping Blankets With Batteries

the Venetian blind (Sandro)


Finally, it should have been a great day.
I pushed the gate of the mansion in the Rue Piccini, in the 16th district.
a cartoon gorilla took me, after the usual checks, in a waiting room with Venetian blinds that smelled GP who can not afford. Burgundy carpet worn, some journals there are more than a year. Then they called me. I went into another room, not without having crossed other gorillas. A real zoo.
Then the door of a shabby office less than others. And sitting behind a white wooden secretary, Bernstein. The fifty flaccid, slightly bald, too pale complexion by eating a bad beard. It was a dirty yellow shirt that was pretty good with his nails.
I immediately decided that I did not love her. He examined me from top to bottom. Then the reverse. Finally, he made a gesture, which would mean that I was allowed to sit in an armchair which had been yellow, too.
In response, I lit a Gypsy International, and blew away the smoke, to him.
He smiled. A dirty smile, I noticed.

- They came to collect his money, Mr. Ferretti?
Shrug.

- 30 000 euros for a guy like you is not much. You do not have big needs?
- I have very large needs, however. That's why I'm cheap. We will buy anything I want. I listened to myself
say anything. Sometimes it is as soft music in the background.

- And what, what you want? Night without moon? New
shrug.
Bernstein nodded, mimicking the one who understands.

- "When we looked closely at life, there is God or that suicide," he dropped sententiously.

Then after a while, as if to apologize:
- I think that's Camus.
- Montherlant, I let go by blowing smoke in my Gitane stronger than I would have liked.
It began to irritate me. It's dangerous when I get angry. My mother would tell you.
- Pardon?
- Montherlant is Montherlant.
- Oh yeah?
- Yes, indeed, it is death, "I said dryly.
It annoyed me. I was wrong. The idiots, be allowed to say. The only thing that mattered is that he gives me my money, preferably quick enough. Yet I felt that this would be long.
- You know what is your problem? Finally, when you do your job, I mean ....
I shook my head.
- You want me to tell you?
- If I can not avoid it, I say, tired.
- You're a thinker, that's your problem.
- A Dresser? Why, you have injuries? I ventured a smile.
But he did not understand the wordplay. A jerk, I said.
Then his face lit up with dirty white and slowly a smile. He was being understood. What was interesting about this type is that we could follow the path of thinking on his face. Slow path, difficult, and from time to time, the victory of mind over matter. A real fight.

- And you, what do you think, Mr. thinker, "said Bernstein, decidedly philosophical.
- I do not think more, it keeps me from thinking wrong.
- Yes, yes, okay, "he continued, is packed in its own fat. Say, you're in love, or what?
- Do not say bad words, do I let go soberly.
He deigned to smile, and then, suddenly:
- Trades of idiots, it makes con.
And before my failure to respond, he added:
- I am among those who think that a killer is necessarily an idiot. That's why I use them.
- You are those who think and who should not, I said slowly getting up to him.

Immediately he was afraid, because his eyes whirled in search of something or someone, then that obviously there was nothing. I like reading the fear in people's eyes. That, too, should it pass me.
So I put my hand under my blazer, by reflex, while breathing to calm myself thoroughly. I think that's where he became really scared, because he came out of a drawer a blue paper envelope from which emerged the 500 euro note.
I took the envelope from the hand that was not in the blazer and I think I smiled, which is unusual for me, many will tell you.
Then, turning on his heel, I heard:
- Ferretti, I was told that you were wrong. I will confirm.

I mimed a bow, putting a knee down, and then, once identified, I showed him a finger.
is leaving the mansion that I thought that it should have been a great day.
I had my money, I'd have to kill anyone today. In short, things were rolling nicely.
Yet I was calm, but vaguely disgusted. Outside
Avenue Foch seemed sweet, bland, with its smell of cut grass. A sort of miniature Switzerland. I do not know if it makes you that. I do.


In the distance I saw a Toyota that looked so much like a pick-up from the pound as it was. And then I saw, on wheels, the Mercedes I had rented in the morning. Double file ... I did not even like running. Anyway, the car is rented at organization name, she will recover.

- Having problems?

I turned to see whence came the clear voice. I was at the terrace of the Madrigal on the Champs-Elysees. The voice came from a woman who at once struck me as beautiful. Thirty years. Tight dark gray suit, white silk blouse, stockings smoked sewing. This kind whatever. The class-sexy kind. I do not know about you, but I like it.

- You have problems, "she repeated, amused.
- I do not call this problem, I replied, sec.

She was sitting at the terrace. With a gesture, she invited me to join. At least that's what I understood.
- Yes, I understand ...
The problem of people who say 'I understand' is that in general they do not understand what you just said. This was the case, I think.

She was blonde, had green eyes, the kind -woman executive who has read any Cosmopolitan that is to say that we felt she had theories about premature ejaculation, Bond Fund, but also on the wolf saffron in foil. I avoided so carefully these three subjects. She smiled lightly. I did not pay attention to the lightness, just smile.
was one of those moments when one feels distinctly we made a mistake but when you decide to commit it anyway.
I think her name was Audrey, and after twenty minutes passed around a gin and tonic, I realized it was a woman connected, that is to say that she took things serious lightly and light things with gravity. I decided to do in the grave, since it is what comes most naturally.

- Because you no longer believe in anything, she told me (the hipsters have in common with farmers with them, it is familiarly after five minutes). You're a Desperado . A cowboy sad.
I looked. I do not understand what she said. As Hope is an empty content, that nobody has taken me a satisfactory definition, I do not despair.
Hope, despair, these are notions of working girls who come to learn that their vacation in the Seychelles with Charles fell into the water. And I do not like water. I do not feel sorry either.
I just wanted to take her home to the real navigation begins. I did. She began. Screeching silk. Descent into the chic below. Heavy breathing, squeaks. The wave advance, retreats. Respite. Slight thinning on a neck clear. And the more words that no longer belong, "No, not there ... I beg you ...." And then the storm rises, the angry bull, "here, take ..." It was

be twenty-three hours, and her long legs floating out of my fridge.
- You take something? Her voice returned
clear. I noticed the wrinkles around the eyes. Crow's feet. Not moved with it, damn it known.
- You take something?
- No. But you take the sea. You are sensual, but without result.

"It's Gainsbourg, "I said after a while, just to apologize.
It took the shock front, an eyebrow raised in surprise. I watched her stir to pick up its affairs. To give a capacity, she rekindled her laptop, she deigned to cut when we were in bed. obvious sign of interest in me from an executive woman . It always consisted of numbers, which apparently remained unanswered, too .

When slamming the door, she said simply
- I would not live in your head. It is rotten in there.
And so saying, she patted his head. I shook head and smiled and blew away my Gitane smoke toward the ceiling. The gesture almost made me say "so happy?" But I restrained myself. It serves no purpose to humiliate people for free.

Then there was the slamming of the door, which the shock wave was nearly off the wall a picture of Cartier-Bresson that I love. Finally
only , as they say in B movies The cigarette between his lips, I went to the window, without ruling out the blinds, because I have none. Outside, there was not a single bus of tourists.
I live near the Porte Maillot, where Japanese tourists turn around, because when there's nothing to see.


Sandro


Credit: Levi Wedel