POUR CEUX A QUI C'EST ARRIVE,
QUE JE CRAINS NOMBREUX
QUE JE CRAINS NOMBREUX
On the
night at Monpar, meet ... with my man and his girlfriend (last episode of
"diary of a looser woman")
It's strange. A looser I
am (OK, and I am proud of that) .. who nevertheless has "succeed" two children, a girl and a
boy, portrait as it is told, of his paternal grand father (but I have nothing
to do and it is not my glory) .. rather not too bad both (on this point, I am
perhaps for something) .. The same affair of Anne Boleyn (see "often man
varies") except that there is nothing to reproach myself question
reproduction (breeding).. if I was a cow, I would have won all the agricultural
shows .. and luckily my husband was not King of England and did not made me
behead for having found an other one better and younger than me.. (But for the
rest) ... It is not only at Sant'Ambroix that inevitably everybody met everybody
into the street (or here, instead, of the amphitheater -! Because the residence
was realized by Ricardo Bofil, a Spanish architect-). A Paris too! At Montparnasse exactly, my husband and his
girlfriend, (chic hat all the two!) returning home after (I suppose) a nice
evening out .. (movies? Theatre? Expo? Concert?) It's weird. Nose down, they
were staring at their shoes (!) with the air of gus that have shit and poorly
flared their ass.. and fear I feel their smell... although they were perfect (and
it was me who was neglected, having not expected the collusion). It make me
remember, formerly, this night where my car scrashed in a plane tree after 700
km without a break. Not a word. But an image that will remain. For ever. No
pain now: I can't desire the man of another one, never. And now he is. (Because
the damages it makes in a family for children, I have known that in all my
infancy.) Good electrochoc. I’m cured.
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