Indolent Arcachon and naked stretches in the wind fresh from February 1 moribund.
The mimosas of winter city already require them to compete with blonde and ive ivette early gardens Osten. Between the pier and the pier Thiers Eyrac Elliot * hesitates to swim scared by the rolls of foam basin. 
Ronronette my shoulder trying to make himself a headrest and slips her hand into the space vacated by the triangle of my arm warm in the folds of my jacket. Despite the risk of making me steal the piece of chocolate brand new, I seize on the mouth with his lips thin, delicate and pink. Standing on a sand floor and a ceiling of e sky, I defend my capital cocoa cons his voracious language. Here and now there is X-rated scene of Elliot trying his luck at a Shih Tzu cross, snobbish, draped, proud, offended and disheveled by the wind.
("I fear the worst.
he is coming!")
he is coming!")
 |
| Dali |
Farther to the port, the truck reached the esplanade of the auction and trawls are dry. The laughing like ferreting flying rats in the skeletons of the cradles in search of meaty bones. The 're sinners are unharmed and the protector Saint Ferdinand, resting on the cross until the next tide.
Chained to a dead body on the swing oscillates pinnace waves while its buoy keeps watch a cormorant.
The emotional connections of utopia less bounded than reality allows me the vision of the other side of the basin despite screen shacks tchanquées.Derrière Bird Island to pass and threw Belisaire view project myself to 5 km flight seagull. J imagine an unlikely lady Godiva riding naked to lower taxes, raising the sands of time and the range of Ferret-Capiens "the edge to horses, "or a long dark lady back Gottingen Chassiron or walking slowly behind the hearse of recollections. Memories and fantasies are often the other side. After all, what is known about the nomads of the affect ? Sometimes I have the hourglass that binds and be "one hour stop at a clock face.
Marseilles that I be in my imagination palliative myopia, or the obsession with my desire still intact "a balcony overlooking the sea," I would see on a clear day the terraces of Algiers the white limed.
* is a mutt, then no, it Elliot!
Synopsis: In southern France, Mark, married and a father, leads a comfortable life real estate agent. Randomly from a sale, he meets a woman captivating charm whose face is familiar. He thinks he recognizes Cathy, the love of his 12 years in a violent Algeria, to the end of the war of independence. After a night of love, the girl disappears. Throughout the day a doubt seizes Marc: that's really the one that claims to be called Cathy? An investigation begins. (Source Allociné)
What does that mean the villa, pool, career, the family of Marc arises when the past without notice?
Not heavy!
The mature man, wealthy, confident, social success at a hair under a kind of arrogant invincibility dehumanized the character portrayed by Jean Dujardin who fell to his knees yet knighted by the ghost of temptation.
There is no bullet-proof vest against the arrows of longing.
blurred images are spreading, or venom serum, in organizing his thoughts. Memories and fantasies are often the "other side" of the dunes or waves.
The war in Algeria mocked his emotions pre-teens. The love story, of rustling and looks barely begun to resume interrupted twenty years later at Aix. Uprooted, piled into the jumble of flight and exile without having time to say goodbye protagonists have grown but not changed. The little girl with no baggage but not without memory found Mark in the country where people marry to pay less tax to the shores of the adult world and lucidity. It comes with the desire and hunger excluded survivors. There are stolen childhoods which are diseases that are not healing and after a double decade incubation is the emergence of terminally ill hustling certainties adults. It ago, sealed in memory banished memories homeopathic intimate pictures that are no longer looking. Their presences of small molecular laugh arrangements with the past as the resurgence of a clear spring just waiting to burst. There are here and now the main target of nostalgia and the missing link of melancholy. Cathy is not what you thought. Whatever! Love is an excuse in the pursuit of the incomparable taste of the first and the "Search of Lost Time."
Ronronette my shoulder trying to make himself a headrest and slips her hand into the space vacated by the triangle of my arm warm in the folds of my jacket. Despite the risk of making me steal the piece of chocolate brand new, I seize on the mouth with his lips thin, delicate and pink. Standing on a sand floor and a ceiling of e sky, I defend my capital cocoa cons his voracious language. Here and now there is X-rated scene of Elliot trying his luck at a Shih Tzu cross, snobbish, draped, proud, offended and disheveled by the wind.
On Arcachon i ndolente and naked here and now there's the X factor of the future.
0 comments:
Post a Comment