Gallbladder Polyp And Sludge

Dear readers of evening

I was about to go to bed when I decided to offer this text quoted in the movie "Fever Spring "by Lou Ye. I saw this movie recently. The first time was at the Deauville festival. I was a little skeptical the first time but the second viewing convinced me. And this passage literary reading by Wang Ping Jiang Cheng, at the beginning and the end of the film is absolutely beautiful. And nobody is worried about the first sentence of this passage: it is no reflection of my mood (I'm in Hokkaido difficult to be more satisfied!).

Happy reading.

"(...) Me kill. For lack of courage I did not. But the fact that I still think the idea that shows beyond a shadow of a doubt that the flame in me is not completely extinguished. Today, the tram driver insulted me. What-I treated you it yet? Yellow Dog. Yellow dog. What a beautiful expression. My thoughts keep coming and get tangled in my head to finally achieve nothing without me out of misery in which I am. I heard the siren of the factory. It seems to announce midnight. I stood up. I put the old coat I had worn off. I blew the candle and I went for a walk. The people of this district already sleep a peaceful sleep. In modern buildings Jozi Street, just opposite some shops have kept their neon green and red lighted. From there we hear the sound of a balalaika and notes crystalline a plaintive melody resonating in the cool night air deep still reach my ears. These are probably young Russian girls in exile who sell their songs to survive. The sky is covered with light gray clouds, like decaying corpses that were massed up there. When they break open, you can glimpse one or two stars. But around these stars, the color of the sky we see seems to handle a heavy heart.

The July 15, 1923. "

Yu Dafu

"Night of drunkenness and the season of blooming"

Swimming In My Leotard

ABSTRACTO

A new set of pins that release the trunk, which goes to an abstract idea.

Always the same idea of finding a balance in the chaos of the elements.

Pain In Both Sides Of Lower Stomach

Tell me what you eat and I'll tell you who you are

We are living in a very queer world:

Tell me what you eat and I will tell you who you are

Tell me who you love And I'll tell you who you are

Tell me who you eat and I'll tell you who you are

I am at Sophia University in an exchange program for the past almost four months. Sophia is a faculty more oriented towards what is called in Anglo-Saxon the "liberal arts", ie human and social sciences. In addition to a program in Japanese for the poor peasants like me who do not speak the language of Mishima, the university proposes a wide range of courses in English, which may go to the study of classical Japanese theater passing in international relations and political science.

I am therefore pleased that semester. A court of comparative literature focuses on the haiku, a court of citizenship policy (Yum Yum), a court on the concept of colonialism and finally, last but not least , the court's most interesting: Sociology of sexuality and gender. Certainly, I see you coming, little perverse. NO, this court is not the most interesting because the words "penis", "vaginal intercourse" and "Homosexuality" appear consistently. Students do not contemplate Professor Farrer foaming at the mouth, eyes full of debauchery, with one hand in the underpants and the other fiddling nervously pen kits carefully posed in front of the table. What makes strength of this court is that it is clearly composed, with readings that are most relevant and well discussed. The teacher has charisma (what others are somewhat lacking) and there is a real "background" technical, sociological and philosophical. "It's too sugoi!" Somehow.

The course focuses on various topics, foremost being an introduction to the sociology of sexuality. It therefore requires the study of patriarchy, the oppression of women, the gender concept, the concept of " tryst ", homosexuality and bisexuality, pornography, gender X, Michel Foucault Karl Marx, others joyous, and even the theory of "hook up"! Each court is different, but the themes to recross. And of course, a recurring theme is the theme of "queer studies".

This introductory course to the sociology of sexuality speaks very well of the concept of "identity". Today we had a yard on bisexuality, and the identity problem. Bisexuality, according to Marjorie Garber, sexuality is a very special and truly apart from that of heterosexuality and homosexuality. It has the peculiarity of being a "non-identity " in the sense that it accepts ambiguity, uncertainty, change and phase of a gray world in black and white. The status of bisexuality is apparently much changed between the 70s, years of sexual revolution, the 90s. During the years of revolt, being bisexual was challenge authority and seek other standards, to free themselves as homosexuals or other minorities trying to do. The 90, according to Garber, show a change. The policy has been there and crystallization identaire. Another notable fact: AIDS is rampant and with past downturns. Finally, loves alternative have a somehow trivialized in Western societies at least.

We saw a growing phenomenon biphobia toward "identity" bisexual. The world associates necessarily homophobic homosexuals, from the foot they put into the queer world. They were also considered as those who have spent Aids, "gay disease" among heterosexuals in the 1980s. In a reverse approach, in some gay communities, we are witnessing a phenomenon of rejection against those who "ass between two chairs", "assumes that half "," want to continue to enjoy the "heterosexual privilege." Because they have no clear identity, they could undermine the gay identity movement. How can we claim the right to marry when part of the team to return his jacket to go sit snug in the house of "normality"? However, biphobia not only shows how bisexuality is not included. It shows how the identity in general has a political significance, and an identity that refuses to be one, may be a threat.

can understand the policy as follows. Policy often begins with a struggle for power in public space. For a party or a group can apply for rights, it must create an identity, a difference that could allow him to gain power, and assert its views. It is therefore, in political parties, as in groups identity, a need for ideology, a system of thought necessary and solid, showing universal constants and casi-teleological in human reality. There is in search of a stable identity and a strong contradiction with the policy itself. Politics is the world Quota of a changing world, much more realistic idealist, where the politician, although sometimes guided by the outline, is forced to move into groping, more than knowing. Somehow, the show even more identities in their facticity political space as they try to adapt to a permanent chaos, and all show their complete incompatibility with reality.

Michel Foucault, the famous author of History of Sexuality, was quite skeptical about the actual release would have have led to the sexual revolution of the late '60s and the construction of political identity around the notion of sexuality. For Foucault, we talk too much sex and sexuality. We like to say "repressed", and so we made a "sexual revolution". Outside, Foucault, tracing the history of sexuality, shows that we are witnessing in the 19th century to the advent of science of sexuality around the Darwinian, Marxist, Freudian, and other biologists / physicians. Then appear medically terms of "women hysteria", the "pedophile" and "homosexual" (which becomes a clinical disease). Science has put in boxes and gave an authoritarian basis of sexuality. And while we thought suppressed, then we are talking incessantly about sex, thinking to release and build our thinking being. Obviously, I find it very difficult to reduce eddy to a single paragraph, which is already causing alone prolonged sleep a meeting for me I can not be lost for the first two lines (thank you to them!) . Foucault is not without its critics, and I'm certainly not his best defender. However, I would point a smart remark on his part. Is it really safe to build an identity around their sexuality, without any political considerations? Foucault is ironic example can we construct an identity around its diet?

Tell me what you eat and I'll tell you who you are

Tell me who you love And I'll tell you who you are

The identity construction has its limits, especially when it is associated with homosexuality. My impression is this. I find the development of gay literature, a queer cinema and a world rather queer or gay friendly positive as a whole, given the overwhelming heteronormativity that still exists in contemporary society (phallocentrée more importantly, we need only watch MTV). However, this should be peripheral rather than a source of obsession, or even communitarian people looking to be more gay than gay ". We can not say that homosexuality, heterosexuality or transsexuality are constitutive of our being, which also remains in constant definition in the flow of life. We can not say: "I do not know play the piano, I can not do sports, oh my god, my only distinction from others is that I'm gay! "

Making his sexuality too important a component of his identity is first to restrict and not to go forward a lot of other things more constructive in terms of identity. It then unconsciously believe in essentialism. This question of "Is what is gay at birth or from childhood" is obviously difficult to answer. However, the problem is that belief in determinism is to believe in a destiny, a necessity and therefore somewhere a kind of curse. How then accept what you do, damned if we believe in forever? How is it when essait to build an identity with what we think a curse? Then we may not ever doubt assumed, by trying to be more than what we never wanted to be. It is then that we hate to be, and they're well rid if it was possible. That's why define its identity with something as banal and ultimately uncertain sexuality can be dangerous, and ultimately unproductive .

"Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding,

No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them,

No more modest than immodest"

                                                   

Walt Whitman, "Song of Miself" (quoted by Marjorie Garber, Vice Versa )

This Article not really pamphlet against identity groups. He is not here to say that bisexuals are rejected by the GLT movement and thereby create another somewhere identity. It reflects on the notion of identity, which sometimes reassuring and promising happiness often leads to poor self-concept, "which has to be be" more than is , (if it is Sartrian). The notion of preference is biased: it is my preference for free markets, excluding black men or cucumber is really consitutents a stable identity? Act rather than think about his "being" since its head is the best way to not go crazy and end up on the rails of the Chuo line.

This is not to say that we are all and all must be bisexual. That would still put the world in a box. Communism tried to put a lot of countries in a single pie and ended up cutting the dough sticking out of it with a large bloody knife. However, we can learn a lot of bisexuality. Marjorie Gaber explained that bisexuality does not exist in itself, it is not an identity, but a story ("a narrative " ). Bisexuality takes temporality into account. It may very clumsily paraphrase Bergson in the conference "The Possible and the Actual." Reality is like a balloon that inflates, not a chessboard that goes from box to box. Reality, and thus the future is unpredictable. Any assessment of a possible sign of finding a causal, is ultimately a retrospective illusion, time is running true of consciousness (oulala I 'll hit with my friends in college in philosophy if they read this!). Bisexuality is to admit that reality is constructed step by small. Bisexuality, without an identity, constantly being lost, without definition, and refusing to choose, watch all his "big sister" a new romance and a new freedom, that of not knowing and accepting that " Leaving we are in a very queer world .

"I did not genetic.

I have a troubled mind.

Give me some time. It will pass by wind.

I want to be alone. Stay there.

You shut up.

I do not want to stop.

I want to bother you! "

Defrost A Frozen Sausage

Promises

Dear readers frequent (hahaha, it's nice to dream, but at the same time, I tried) This is

now a while since I have not written in this blog. Not that I have no idea for an article, but just a little lack of time because of the partials. I have very major problem which is not able to upload pictures on this damn blog. Without photo, my articles lose their interests ... We must believe that my dorm connection is rather defective. So surely I would find an opportunity to save. And sometimes it's a good sign not to write a blog. It is a sign that something is happening assets in real life!

Coming (article in preparation): In the trees
-Kamakura-
Kabikuchô
-Tell me what you eat and I'll tell you who you are

Meanwhile, here, pell-mell, some passages mental tribulations of the moment:

"... a strange sadness seized me. This sadness, it seemed to her to enter my heart with the voice, so painfully acute, cicadas: I figeais and then a long stillness, gazing alone, lonely, my inner loneliness. But this summer it gradually since my return, my sadness had changed hue. And as the common cry of the cicada had given place to the cry of the little grasshopper, so I felt around me, the fate of those who were dear to me gradually driven into a huge metamorphosis "

Natsume Soseki, Kokoro


" The laces fall sleep, I
roasted deliciously.
Midi . "

Couchoud, Over Water (classroom study on haiku)


" archaeologist puts the contents of his excavations in the coffers of his wife "

AG


"やく そくがある ので, これ で 失礼 します. "

phrase in karate sempai


" I love and want to live in a world of beauty "

An anonymous, which will probably never on the blog identify.




Good evening everyone, and very soon.

Take Apart Chair Wheels

The Poet and Love

Today, I drive to work (or rather to pretend, because I sorely lack motivation, especially in front of my computer) when I opened my inbox. An email Kamma Thordarson, a friend who is now her internship in New York. Since reading Milan Kundera, she spoke of poets

" The loyalty of women to dead hero was part of the sacred myths of Jaromil; she gave him the assurance that the absolute love invention was not only a poet but it existed and made life worth living . "

Milan Kundera, Life Is Elsewhere

I then found an email from Florian Audureau, friend who is studying in Lyon. He wrote me this email guide commentary.

He, she, who? Basically it's always the same, always the same, a face, a smile, a light.

"Above all, do not lose myself, had I said. I am easily loseable. "And she laughed at my childishness. However, it lost me somewhere. Where was it? I forgot ... there was old ruined temples and sun on the close. I remember a field of white flowers, tall Corinthian columns. I vaguely remember the warmth and blue sky over the colonnades. And a large boulder-strewn shelf collapsed. There were no cliffs, no mountains. In the distance, the ocean was dark blue shimmering waters. And many pine trees that sheltered us from the sun. That's it. There were no cicadas, lavender or Mediterranean. I think it was in Agrigento. I forgot to see if Sicily was like the postcards ... I walked out to conquer the ancient monuments, with your smile behind me. "Do especially not get lost! ". I turned around to see if you were always there but you had disappeared. Yet this was not the god who commanded you to bottom recalled, but you were gone. I searched behind the temples and behind the thick woods, but I did not find, I did not find our trail that winds had already covered. The southern light shining in all its splendor on the ruins forever. It was noon. I looked at the sun without blinking, dreaming that my eyes flew to him. But it took away my eyes burning and dropping my dream solar its rays pierce me. As usual. How long before the years have ruined my heart? ... "Do not get lost!" Did I say ...

(I fell by accident your blog. He inspired me. I wanted to leave this comment like my stone to work but the internet does not want me to comment then I'll send him. For you to judge what you will do. Let us not lose!)

Florian Audureau


I found an intrinsic link between these two texts. In the first, it is question of the poet who is supposed be "the inventor of love", although this statement appears a bit like a denial. In that article, we have a poet who writes about love, which creates poetically of love. There is a strong link between the Poet and Love. Love is something that is floating, unstable, powerful, sometimes low, sometimes close to hate, sometimes with a delicious fleurtant indifference, sometimes contradictory, multiple and who tries to be a constantly stirred by experience, it comes and goes, forgotten, shared. Love thinks only of himself. The poet is much the same thing, and it exploded everywhere, and it is up to him. His ego is constantly seeking its expression in his surroundings, trying to both hide and reveal itself. But the poet has a gun. The poet has a pen that captures in words and things on the leaves. The poem can lock love and give it a texture and consistency. It is a reflection, a paradigm for others to admire, with the stars in the eyes of the dream.

Maybe a little "blue flowers" and romantic, but I think the poet embodies love, or rather, by which love takes its most adequate. It was beautiful enclose it in logical reasoning as Socio-biology or sociology of love and sexuality. Nothing beats the logic of the poem and the poet, nothing beats this irrationality controlled and regulated by its own power and his only joy.

I do not judge a poet. However I try to write poetry. This is for my friends, my loves, my joys and sorrows, I write. Why I write? Because I like having control over my life. I like to give some color to events that were too fast to be accurately pick one's food colors. Because sometimes say things that make them exist as desired. And then if we sum to stop because we indulge with illusions, then we will answer:

"And you, do you, you have the courage to dream your life as I do it? "

How Do Italians Do For Baby Showers

Under the Mirabeau Bridge Japanese version

" Good evening, I would consider a beautiful poem by Guillaume Apollinaire. It is called the Pont Mirabeau ."

I received a phone call from Riuji last night. Ruijs is my Japanese students. Student, yes. Here it is, I am holy French teacher for over a month. Finally, it is not a paid job. Call it an exchange: half an hour in French, half an hour in Japanese. But our exchange quickly turned into a weekly meal, where a lovely lady with us, as fascinated by the grotesque linguistic hubbub that is played between any new wrestlers of the language of Molière.

Under the Mirabeau bridge flows the Seine And our loves

Should he can remember
Joy always came after the death

Let night time The days go
I remain

Riuji is really different from Japanese that I met up Maitena. He studied French, and for once, not because he spent a week in Paris for micro vacation of his dear parents. The French, he liked to share literature and classical music. Somewhere, someone that makes him a little elitist, but someone demanding. Parrait I see a strange passion for Japanese culture in my own country. On the one hand, perhaps they would find it strange if I started to Kabuki and if I told them I wanted to go to Japan in Mishima reading rather than Naruto. The Japanese, at least, the sample that I can see Sophia, have a good bunch of happy lunatics. During the festival by Sophia example, I attended a concert of Brazilian percussion, where the leader was literally rolling on the floor. Maybe he suffered a sudden pruritus? Maybe the flour in its nostrils was no flour? Maybe he just found his way in a mad passion for the arts -gaijins. In any case what is certain is that when you decide to rave in Japan, delirium through. No quarter.

Dear Riuji therefore, decided to get to French, and after three months of practice, we are already in Balzac, Rimbaud and Apollinaire. A when Marcel Proust? They are crazy Japanese, seems Obelix the Gaul.

hands in the hands remain face to face
While under
; the bridge of our arms passes
of eternal eyes so weary wave

Let night time
The days go I remain

" hands." Riuji is a fan of classical music and classical piano. So, today, to escape the routine of court, we went all three at the piano room on campus. Hands on the piano while I played a bit for the first time in two months now. Relief. It is indeed strange to experience this feeling there for a beast piano after a stupid song. Music as a universal language: I was happy to be cheered by a Japanese! "Music is a universal language my son" (Thanks Dad - - ")

" the eternal gaze. "Viewpoints:" Oh my God, a Gaijin! ". It happens more often in the subway and Sophia, vol very international. But there is still a gaijin, whatever you do. Sometimes I feel the distance with my student. And then I wonder: is not only that a language problem? Because even if the culture is different, would it not easier to explain in the same language?

Our courses take place as follows. I take my suit prof severe organized, I decides to ban English. The Japanese opposite then starts to turn pale and immediately said "Sorry I Have to aim" go to the toilet ". I laugh inwardly: "It will not escape me, MOUHAHAHA. Generally, I do talk, then corrects it. I make him read the texts, we discuss all poems he likes. Still the question "Why?" every time he does that a yes or no. The child mumbles and stammers but does understand. And the child you out phrases like "Water represents love and time, flowing under a bridge." After half an hour of toil and sweat, the child said: "Let's speak in Japanese for now." Aha, and I say, 'Sorry I Have to Go to The Toilet "..." oh my god oh my god, you must speak Japanese! " (Chuckle). We spent the first session to repeat 50 times "watashi wa". As a wrestler, I watched my executioner with a serious desire to murder mixed with guilt for not having his mouth formed to recite his stupid Japanese syllables (well it's the emotion, forgive).

I like talking with Riuji especially because he has the gift of making fun of my mouth brilliantly every time I say something stupid. It is generally rare for a Japanese mocks you when you make mistakes in Japanese. But hey, I like the franchise, even if it is cruel. "Watashi wa ...." and automatically "Hihihihihihihihi" (take the demonic laughter of the wicked Chinese in Hollywood movies and you have the script)

Love goes like this running water
L'amour s'en va
As life is slow
And Hope is violent

When I reread the Pont Mirabeau before class, I was seized with a small ironic smile happily mingled with sadness. I did not really love that poem before. I do not understand. It is funny not understand things at a time and give it back later, finding himself stupid for not having granted the right chord at the right time. The poem came to a funny moment. As if I was on the Pont Mirabeau. You may object identification and stupid teenager. Maybe, but Apollinaire Tokyo, I know not why, it resonates, it shines. The poem took me: who would have thought that a commonplace of French literature would have fascinated in Japan? Like what is going away from home than you realize some things. Finally, the personal context lends itself too. Riuji thank you!

"And Hope is violent." My mood is elegiac sinusoidal and first found a source of drama impressive. After when you take a step back, we reflect on the hope and we find ridiculous. The hope is it nonsense? I do not know. But what is certain is that it propels us toward something that does not exist, and we Allien in our understanding of this. Some will object that this does not exist. I do not know, sometimes when I doubt the possibility of present happiness. However, the reality is only now, a succession of presents. Anyway, the gossip verbose and spiritual stuff. Between what the heart and mind, there is a world (Make yourself against dualism!). The feeling is always the strongest, the feeling and experience as well. Hope is violent? But is it the spirit? When will overwhelm the feeling that hope?

Spend the days and weeks pass time

Ni Ni loves return
Under the Mirabeau bridge flows the Seine

Let night time
The days go I remain

It's been almost two months that I am in Tokyo. Time passes a speed that it is possible to imagine. It is sometimes hard to find a place in that particular year. Year with no real purpose, year off before entering the life a little more active, I admit I had a little trouble getting used to the great Tokyo, the recent and painful changes in my life, and especially currently empty future projects looming. The number of beers I have not really gone yet shown the path of wisdom in the Land of Ants. It does not feel good. We do not feel bad. It is one between two, as everywhere. Do not want to return to France, no desire to go back either, even if sometimes a bit of nostalgia watching.

We're nowhere. We are in a year where being lost is not a luxury but a slogan. Some fall quickly on their feet and find something to guide a little chaos of bewilderment. Sometimes it takes a little longer. And all thanks to this advance. Which, I must admit, makes him look good at that bastard!

Let night time
The days go I remain

How Long Off Work With Kidney Infection?

Solely knell

-I-

The sun was rising off the desert

I was left there alone and without anything
That frustrated my regrets and my bitter tears

Love hounds bare cons doors closed.

Dinitrogen KE not there, like the death doulère

Zot the jet 'body, having stolen bank plum

Dan' big sky without the star power neighboring sea

Zoiseau death zoiseau

Mi love your touch seveu Li on the fold kom

Feverish, I felt this Dying of thirst m'enlasser
cold, hot in this hostile country
His big blue eyes all making me very weak
Beaten by the rays of the sun iced.

"Solely knell the patient bobbed

Moun mor kan li y 'market ret" *

-II-

treble sounds pierced the gray crows In the wild
emerald green eyes and sharp eye
Have pierced my heart with anger fickle:
feathers on my back began to grow.

is the order of the sinking is the order of the damned

hallucinated I hear the song of the Phoenix High

My skin fills the hot swollen waters of the Styx
My eyes fix ; from below the great Sun iced.

Some things down here, no reason
reborn and go whatever the season

Without even deserve it, you end up in the dark.

My chest expanded, covered with golden feathers
Open wide the wings to fly In the shadow still
God Sun! He had only to see better!

* Ziskakan, Solely knell

Is It Alright If My Puppy's Poop Is Black?

Proverb of the Day History

My father learned these two proverbs in Britain, that inspire me well while I'm in Tokyo right in the rain .

"When the gull scratches his penis, it will shine" This sentence

my very poetic faith is followed by the following:

"But when the gull scratches his ass, he will not nice either "

To think ... (Strongly that classes resume)

Beauty Therapist Cv Example

door (poems 2006)

These are old poems that I published in 2006 in a former blog of poetry that I hung out with two friends of mine ( http://without.canalblog.com/ ). They were written in a period where I was fascinated by Hermeticism (Mallarmé, Rimbaud, Bonnefoy) ... without really understanding what it was (the awkwardness of these poems reflects very well). However, some phrases are not bad, so here they are.

The creaking door

I

Sails of trance
Softly whispering
A night that all its doors open
Towards the lapping?

Softly whispering
Finally
At night when the sails because

Between entranced again in the dance
Doors open
Towards the lapping
vertigo
Brook

The doors open slowly
And when the sails burst into a trance Font
love
pages successive
And the lapping whispers that
Slowly
rushes, crossing the creek crosses the giant

a Who word ...

sails raised and doors open
The flowing stream and the giant from
Significantly
The sound of a car
Trouble refinement
The wave of the door that closed quietly
Breathe

II
sails of trance Softly whispering

A night that all its doors open
Towards the lapping?

Poetry foremost
Who is still synonymous with crystal
Getting lost in the mists diametrical
doors ajar

that slowly loses its strength Breath
Who whispers softly
Luit quarter of an hour of your lips Abolished
object of my illustrious sounds

The sails of trance suggest lapping
Or the lost must run with him
And the giant loose in the back door
From the door that closes without a silent noise

The door slams

sails of trance
For wind waves
tear when Zephyr
Slams doors

As a ballet
For regular
Battent voices of twilight
Who whisper in the night:

"Half and quarter-words
heart out of your stupor!
damned souls! lost in the woods
That everything you perceive. "

Violently closes the door on these uncertainties
running back who will put the mirrors
Marking the beginning of troubles
doors rattling ...

I Look Fat During My Period

The Love is in the process

While the train is moving in the night I'm sitting on a seat clean and I start to fall asleep on seeing the stations.

(all evidence among various individuals who been collected are true)

新宿 (Shinjuku)

The doors are open Will The Left Side. Please mind the gap.

Testimonial: "Wake up. Grab a brush and put a little makeup. Hide The scars to fade away The Shake Up."


I hung up the phone. I do not like the phone is less than the real thing, but hey, in real life it is not clear either and then it is in long, too long. Love does not wait. It was one of the hardest things in my life: to break. Finally, I broke my hand, without artifice, without sacralization and especially to avoid the previous, full of uncertainties. Just "ras-le-bol": uncertainties undermine my self-esteem, drive up hope. I will drag no more behind, I'm tired, Love me tired. Nothing is lost of course because it is a precious little flame, a secret that I keep in my heart, the eternal hope of "someday" we must store in a small box because it no longer depends on ourselves. However, it should stop to get the love when he fled to billions of good and bad reasons, hands trembling. These things walk in reciprocity. To distance, perhaps not definitive that I finally know, but do not go begging. Advance instead.
This third year of study abroad is a special year because it questions much the theme of love. All couples are asking themselves the question of the third year, will pose the question to stay together or not. Some break, others resist, transform, or crumbling. There is no recipe cons miracle youth who advance against the mysterious passing of time. Love, sex, attraction, friendship: it was nice to have 20 years, these problems are never simple and never become.

三 鹰 (Mitaka)
The doors are open Will The Left Side. Please mind the gap.

Testimony: "The night was cold and perfect, the Town Hall very bright, the perfect mood for love. I went up to kiss him and the other has stepped back for fear of getting hit in the corner. "

love is hard. Love is the freedom to question. When we love, are we less free or not? Are they linked together or is it gives us wings? And why y 'is always one who loves more than the other why we all seek a person we would like enough to feel chained, while the other, it makes him fear I think that such questions are endless. You must live in a rather existential and essential. Love is nothing without freedom and existence. Love is lived before they think and that is where it can flourish without asking any question.

You tell me: but I love my wife free, I'm not hiding, yet I sometimes doubt my love? Yes you are certainly right, for Love is a sticky marshmallow which also fits our moods and discoveries. But trying to love without freedom, and you will see that your love will die as soon as the flame of a candle in a hurricane.

たしか わ (Tashikawa)

The doors are open Will The Left Side. Please mind the gap.



Testimonial: " Again we awoke at 5 am to leave my apartment. No one should see us ." We often talk

of love between a man and a woman. We have always been bathed with fairy tales and all that crap made somewhere to consolidate a bourgeois ideal breeding and this viral species that are human. But in truth, the example of homosexual love, loves alternative, do not they show us the best question of love and freedom? Because the alternative, it has not always entitled to do whatever she wants ...

love, some live it as an essential weight. "I am a woman and I can fall in love with that woman." "I'ma man and I can fall in love as men." When one is gay, love seems have less free. When you can not choose anything else, love is initially a nightmare. And then there are bisexuals. Some do not like gay bi, because they say they will always return to the facility. Out, quite logically, we can say that being bi is as difficult as being gay. When you're bi, love becomes a nightmare of choice, and it becomes a love machine. Universally love any sex: it makes us a person unknown, never knowing which way to turn, unable to associate with specific patterns. Love without ever understand. Free love is also an ordeal. And on the existential level, it is the same: when you love someone of the same sex as his, you are exposed to the same position as someone who can not choose. This is finally take the cover of a reciprocating love, society, in its propriety, still does not quite.

埼 玉 県 (Saitama ken)

The doors are open Will The Left Side. Please mind the gap. "While I was lying on his lap, a German businessman went to our seats and said an annoyed voice, raising her eyes: "nein, nein, nein."

In his eyes, I saw millions of stars, but the big black clouds. Kaleidoscopes of light in the dark tangled in uncertainty. And show my own darkness, my own uncertainty. From some time, or to get away from the stars, or to find other, less hot and bright, but can be calmer, more serene.

吉祥寺 (Kichijouji)

The doors are open Will The Left Side. Please mind the gap. Testimony " Loving in the living room, large front windows ice on the floor when suddenly you panic: the neighbor perverse we can be seen?"

We love first body. We love all over this body and it fell backwards. It takes everywhere, chews, sniffs. There is more than social norms, there is only love that takes everything and leaves. Ravaged, back and forth, the more we advance, the less you understand, it is connected, we do not understand, we lose ourselves, we smiled blankly. Return. Return. Return. Perdu in the moment, time no longer matters. The body is a body: it raises the standards of Orthodox is a fool! Desire sometimes goes, sometimes comes back. But it is always the body. By love, the body becomes a body, and it will work.

Testimonial: "I was rotting my first year at Sciences Po, because I had the misfortune to fall in love."

四ツ谷 (Yotsuya)

The doors are open Will The Left Side. Please mind the gap.
Testimonial: "It is one o'clock in the morning. His eyes full of sleep, I walk to go quietly find love warm. But it is really cold outside, and cars are not many. "

Confessions of a madman in an asylum spoke:" I asked myself, I tell him everything, and then I waited sentence. When she came down, overjoyed, I ran to kiss her lips, and I did not even feel like a sacrifice. "The fool has started to take a sheet of paper, tore a few pieces to eat, his thoughts being obsessed with the same tricks in his head.

六 本 木 (Roppongi)

The doors On The Left Side Will open. Please mind the gap.

Testimonial: "For the first time, I wrote that I was on the snow near a bridge when suddenly I deleted it so nobody sees me. I had a very heavy heart. " Assume

. Love is hard to take I think. It is hard to take and tell someone you love him or you do not love her. It's almost as hard I think. Being in limbo, not knowing what answer assume, be lost but at the same time advancing. Why make a decision if it is final? There is nothing unacceptable in human relations. Men are beings contingents, everything changes us all. But we must move forward without the other. It's often harder for one of the two. But the roads are beautiful beyond, in fields where flowers grow big purple that the smell of mustard.

The train passes, the train passes. My heart aches and dizziness.おわります か. One would have said, "but you said this over the phone, it means nothing. When one knows where he is, he should go ahead and give him time." The other would have said: "Sometimes between people, the word becomes tragic. One speaks and the other hears something else. We must break this is tragic and moving. "Forward, forward, forward.

Testimonial:" I stopped mutilate when I realized that I had the right to be in love . "

武 蔵 境 (Musashi sakai)

The doors On the left side Will Open. Please mind the gap.

Testimonial: "But they have the right to do what they want, as long as they have no children and they do not show too much in public. That they might scare our kids, or even corrupt .

Not being able to love freely, it can not love everything short.
... No, the condition of not moving really loves alternative! Thank TF1. Thank you France, which lags behind many countries in Europe, has still not legalized gay marriage and adoption. Because we have to remember eh? Because it is less natural that an in-vitro fertilization made by a single woman who uses a sperm donation? Because you hold feelings for the pleasure of a well-meaning crowd, kind of Judeo-Christian faith? Because we have to remember to have the heart to be used when one sees a stroller and a happy family? Because we have to remember to have with tears in his eyes when you see a couple kiss without thinking? Because we have to remember to have the balls because that one hesitates to take a hotel on vacation? Because we have to keep suffering to see something normal and store it in a powerful closet full of dust and shame? Yes refrain: " retain thou shalt see in 20 years, it'll happen . No, it does not. Love does not pass, sir, love does not ma'am. The love is there, now compressed by a society that pretends to accept but that the sharp fangs. A company which is not homogeneous, the difference is striking and shows that HIV rates are rising only in gay men, without any shade! Love is not free in our society sir! Love is not free, ma'am. Love is still a firefly that is enclosed in a lantern, to believe that beauty blooms in the world, so that the smothers small fire, slowly, slowly.

武 蔵 小 金井 (Musashi Koganei)

The doors are open Will The Right Side. Please mind the gap. Please do not jump in front of The train. Please dry your eyes. Please hang on, please.

"Honey I love you, baby I adore you"

Little Russian doll that was left locked in the large, nobody left you live and blossom. May you stay in a small corner of my brain while I'm doing my life without much regard as you live too. Your cheeks are handfuls of sand I can understand that you can not grasp. Because Love takes himself, took off and gets lost, sometimes comes back. I see nothing, everything is bleak, says, everything is dark. But as the train, I suggest always to destinations that the only difference, have no real names. Is it you said, who sees the light?しら ない, じ ら ない. Maybe we recrosses the way, or not. For now, move forward, limping a little, get out of the train station, go back to our rooms and sleep. To achieve our dreams.

What Are The Pro's About Convection?

Prices do not start yet

Despite the desires that I see you again, the work of our new school have not yet finished. I'm sure we'll be fine there. While waiting for our reunion, I try to reconnect to the blog and sends you this: October , songs by Francis Cabrel pretty and melancholy, ideal for the study of the future and to remind us that summer left. I see you again soon.

Build My Own Fireplace Mantel

演劇 が 好き

(Short introduction not related to the subject-tudududu imitating the sound of the subway in Tokyo )

I'm redecorating my room. Because she was a little austere the bugger! This year I got a room in a dormitory which is located in a district of Tokyo (in fact I even know if we can say that it is in Tokyo) called Koganei.



First Things First: it is a dormitory at the University of Sophia. Yaa it may close more Japanese than international students (well Americans, there really many Americans). Second thing: a dormitory mÂÂÂÂles. The opposite sex, forbidden fruit, is sorely missing. Curfew at midnight, if you bring immediate expulsion bobone home for tea (or not), nocturnal absences must be reported on a notice at the entrance: No doubt, we are well into the 21st century. Instead, go see why it was allowed to drink in the rooms. This ignores two things: since Helen of Troy, he has never been proven that women brought the fight as a good chouille. Deuzio is not because there is not many girls as boys become angels. In short, you understand that small archaic haunt the corridors of Koganei. Anyway, the ambience remains good. I like the dorms. It's nice to eat at a fixed time with people and try to talk with a Japanese Kyushu terrorized in broken English (at least not for me because I answered in Japanese just as rough, hehe).



As I was saying earlier, I redecorated my room. I put the color of India, with two or three tissues and posters that I brought back from there (siiiight). Then I attacked the period nostalgia photo of friends and relatives, postal cards Berlin, Hanoi, Bangkok or Brussels, to make history this room livable. Why am I telling you all this. This is because when I write, there is a photo of a theater and it makes me full of memories in my head.


I wanted to talk a bit, this theater company that has no name. I think it quite regularly in fact, a good memory that will never die. I've always done theater in school since the 6th. I like being able to overcome his shyness. I'm shy in general but not with the theater: there is something reassuring, comforting a mask, and above all a sense of purging, to get ahead of itself. When I arrived at Le Havre, in the rain and the staggering difficulty of novelty, I entered the theater workshop and here (warning light) well it was still better. No, actually, what I liked was the fact that students can only create something good, can make progress by themselves. Marion had started, and I knew from the first meeting I wanted it back when I pass in the second year. Aude and I have therefore taken the workshop with many doubts but a lot of motivation.

is a real pleasure to write a courtyard, thinking a court, a court is to see your eyes, see the people you trust. I definitely do not essences: one not born director or drama teacher but you become one. In fact, the most important is to build an authority, and for others and for oneself. With Aude, in the beginning, we struggled. Serve as a teacher at our friends, it was not easy. Win was a confidence that we had not quite ourselves. But as and when it came. Ms. Schwarz has served to consolidate our project, we quickly found some pieces of ideas and we quickly adapted for minicrit.

This year has gone by at the speed of light. Bawling, laughter, questions, drama, theater. The theater kept me from thinking about the year was happening, major changes in my life, my emotional battlefield. He put me in a constant stress, but in a good stress. The stress of seeing what is happening in my head come on stage. The stress of seeing what happens in my head can be modified by others. What I liked in this experiment is to see how arts projects can be democratic and need others. These two plays, although Aude and I have drawn the contours and proposed the strings were brilliantly interpreted, amended by the actors. I enjoyed my role in history: their show that, like me and my costume director, they could take as an actor. There is no fixed essence, sometimes you just have to believe a little and the borders are thin. I do not think that Amelia believed to cry in front of hundreds of people at the beginning of the year!

What happens behind the scenes are generally memorable. BDA night before, I had a stress that, and I really thought, was about to kill me. Everything was going in all directions, everyone was nervous. I had only one desire: to tell them to shut up, tell them to have fun. But I took pleasure me? I do not know not: surely. I stressed. If they knew it was three nights I could not sleep. Stresser sometimes it feels good. Fortunately we took this picture, which made me explode all the stress for a magnificent show takes place under the astonished eyes of the campus. Behind the scenes at Minicrit I was calmer then that Aude was livid. Each in turn: we do not control the stress. Everyone was running everywhere, I remember seeing tears Agatha, Arthur read his book in economics for not thinking, Edward Axel and circling like vultures, Amelie slightly greenish and dumb, Shanna and William rather quiet and mastered, Yuri just spin, Quentin faithful to his stoicism, Camille involved as usual, not thinking, all the guys in makeup transvestites, Emily and Clare, rather unmoved: each manages stress as it can. "We passed the electricity?" "We do a hug?" We did Aude was done: a band that laughs together, which makes the current go! The current flows. That's what counts: winning is not important (because anyway, we were the better). What matters is the troupe is the group.

"No, but it's stupid to cry, I feel to force me, but on one side it touches me that crap
Paul is a gala, it's normal to be affected because you receive a gift as much effort and because goes
-No, but I keep telling me I overplayed the sadness, always this impression of playing and not be sincere, to be agreed
Why do not you do not Confidence like that? Why do you not believe in what you feel?
"I know. No wonder then that I doubt the love of others. If I do not trust, how you want me to trust others, or to trust you?

Impressions sparse. Now, Clarissa and Emily took over the workshop. Quentin and Shanna remained, evidence of good memories. I hope everything will be fine. I trust them completely, because there is always an evolution upward. And there is great: it means that they will be even better! But do not put pressure: I wish first to express yourself, do what you love and that others love it too. It satisfaction.Les 90% of the remaining 10% is for the win. Anyway, I doubt it: because it's still too much to walk home together and say that any way, they are too spoiled, and we should have won, even finally, we won in our hearts. There.

I think of you.

" Oh king Faragarafaramus when you désoriginaliseras you? "

Strongest Antibiotic For Treating Sti Infections

Gainjins Drunk in the subway

It's hard to like I just remember The Third time I drank this fucking beer The World Began to Turn Around Me Without Any gut to Write Something Meaningful Has That moment ... I'm Talking with my laptop right now half drunk because i really can not stand The Fact That I'm Losing Control Losing Grip Because I know He Does not Like That Does not Like That Huh, doesn 't Like That, Does not Like That, Does not Like That, Does not Like That, That Does not Like

"Buble, buble, bitch, bitch"

Jordan does not like me to say that people drink because they are unhappy That may be true sometimes people drink like that without being miserable without trying to fill the natural human depression, but in fact I suspect that people are unhappy when they drink, but in fact it is because I am too an analogy about myself because when I drink it to be well with others to not be too displaced orbits so as not to feel too uncomfortable ... but then I'm just happy because I can do " Kampaiiiiiiiiiiii " for the sixth time that evening without feeling stupid "but not necessarily logical because eventually I begin to think about things that hurt me at last the same time we like to have things that make us feel bad for living finally good" Kampaiiiiiiiii yes I admit this is already the seventh time that toasts between boys and musashi KOGANEI that finally aligns most two coherent words

people no longer speak English when they are drunk they speak Japanese to loosen the tongue or another language without building any more I was grilling meat for the Yakiniku my beer glass was filled as if by magic, but good nonetheless be drunk for the third Once a week was not really reasonable especially since I do not like being drunk I like to have control and I find it a bit unrealistic but I'm going to get yelled at and handle flap joy again so I wood because it is a good evening anyway

Then you go into the subway and two young people rather quiet and timid usually stop at the wrong station just to compete and go pee and then I say damn! it is as if Japan had to be drunk to understand these people you annoy in the subway as to want to touch her back burning as to want to wander the streets too large しら ない! しら ない!
Maybe that's how it starts the flash of light may be that nobody can read it now but yet I would like you or me can be read Jordan Yuri Carolina Edward be welcoming to me yesterday desperate without a question in the large Japanese city that engulfs me as I feel without lais

"Will you it must be remembered that it lead me where he liked?" Tokyo has not drunk the same value as the Irishman who speaks 10 languages including French (it is saved) finally it was not very clear last me either but hey all is artifice after all literary

until I write a poem about the sun that shines on me glossy face and leaves me perplexed.

END (well, sleep now, right now, good night)

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"Japan, this tripe"

"Kampai!" Yuko Arai, a former professor of Japanese, a huge glass of beer in hand, surrounded by these alumni is spirit to toast in honor of their reunion in Japan. We are in a Japanese restaurant in Shinjuku, after traversing long paths lined with skyscrapers like candy bright giants. The sushi and Gioz appear and disappear at a furious pace. The beer glasses are filled with magic alone ... well, no it's rather my impression. I'm not someone who drinks a lot in general. So, I'm drunk after two beers and I enter into communication with nature. Why drink anyway? Maybe because in my future life as president of the world, it would be ridiculous to fall steeply in front of the Japanese ambassador or something like that. Finally, our interview with Arai sensei opens many paths. We pronounce a Japanese, without making too much attention to mistakes for once. Everybody understands, and finally whatever the subject: " the important thing is that everyone has fun .

It has been four days since I landed in this country of madmen. Finally, I have not really had a profound contact with the population, so it's rather hard to treat them mad. But one thing is certain: " Japan, it tripe" (according to Yuri). Finally, for starters, you realize what tripe the worst (dry with gravel please!). Prices for starters: it's nice to pay eight euros per day to and from home! The money flowing faster, and far too fast. Tokyo is the most expensive city in the world. Even if eating is not so expensive, it becomes a nightmare to live near the center. In transit, overdeveloped proportion to the size of the city, one can see the souls sleep, exhausted by long journeys too, or livid, lit by the dim glow of cell phones are ubiquitous throughout the car. I think I can become Japanese. The subway is so quiet that I found the confidence to sleep inside. Becoming a small worker ant trip. Yes, " Japan, it filler" in the sense: "this trip". Move and move: main streets of Tokyo I have not yet attracted much but I found a few tricks of student life in Tokyo, the Tokyo life. Some of my ballads, I was often surprised. The Japanese, we are seriously and is stuck with the word "honor" in the back of the throat, are far to corroborate the picture. The photos I put a little later will be there to give you an overview.

the third year, "this tripe! It is both change and develop what we are. Continuity in a different scenery, to have the strength to think another way.

Arai Sensei is a very beautiful woman. Type in a Japanese "kawaii", but also in the type "nice and open." し Intelligent, funny し, し pretty woman ". Why do not you it find a husband?"ど おおお おして! Edward and Jordan spent the evening trying to settle down with the restaurant's clientele. Sometimes it is difficult to understand the Japanese. Way they exclaim, approve or do not agree come into conflict with our habits. Drunk by the two beers, I asked for advice Arai Sensei to survive in this hostile environment that is Tokyo: we then feel the closeness, we feel it is still there to help when needed. It was a good night, one more. And we have a new ally in Tokyo.

Arai sensei is bright, splashing, Japan. Philippe Djian looks like, it reminds me of "strange smells a fitted with translucent antennae and a purple heart leatherette . This quote, in addition to being a beautiful sentence continues " I did not know many girls who could wear a miniskirt with as much insouciance . That's really the portrayal of Japanese women at this time. Summer is still here, the legs are white in the sun, from miniskirts and paired Minishort to rival a saint. I would say sometimes the Japanese is not only か わい, but also ラ - ラ (flush it). There is also a myth about the appearance of Japanese women and that is not true. Dress codes are not the same, women do not wear western clothes in the same way. And they come and go, endlessly, like little ants careless and provocative: a country stuck? Ooh no, " Japan, that tripe!"

"Kampai!" After the fourth "Kamp", Masuda san falls backward into a laugh of the most distinguished, with four grams in the blood. Meanwhile, I pitched again, still a good evening (which ends a little). Meanwhile, we laugh, we try to speak Japanese, we associate with mythological figures (again, I was told that I looked like Harry Potter), it robs us of money in our portfolio, we we took a picture with signs of victory. "ビ - ル, ビ - ル, ビ - ル!" Another strange night, as the one with the luxury of being on a roof in Tokyo to talk about Sciences Po, ass, our lives, a difficult start, yet ass (yes because after all you are 20!), and gossips ... Evenings and days in the parks. " Japan, this guy tripe, tripe it!"

"Big sex Japan. Yes, Japan has run there a lumberjack? I do not know. What I know is that it is always difficult to get somewhere, to build again. When I drink, or when there are people, I am silent. Maybe they do not find me funny or shy: each its own way of assessing the effects of two beers, watching the faces activate and laugh. We must adapt, it is always the hardest to do violence, reach out to others. My dorm me makes you want to do: a curfew in a dormitory filled with male students. Nomikai shiranai demo! I still have a little trouble, but I gradually found traces in which you must walk. But that advance it forward. It must be!

Tokyo. Walk straight, as if nothing had happened. So I withheld my hand lightly from the back of a sufficiently heavy to make him understand that I was there. Tokyo. I pass him discreetly India in his hand. What Bharat from Tokyo. Everything and nothing, "Man of the seas." Tokyo and her bright eyes, undecided but not insensitive. Stealing a kiss in Tokyo? What a challenge! Is she has wanted? Of course! Finally, maybe. Hesitantly Tokyo, which does not allow kissing like that. It has a price? Maybe! Is worth it? Surely! Finally, we are all equal before heaven. Even Tokyo. Under the open sky without stars and all the time illuminated by the great champion of ecology. A sky full of possibility, still limited by the price of train tickets, where everything can be taken by the arm to get them on a trip! Yes, Yuri, you're right: Japan, this tripe!

Numero De Serie Blazedtv 6.0

In the Lost City (2) In the rain

" In the lost city, I found myself

In a dark room with no other presence

That big blond man, silent, alert

Turning without understanding of Where does his suffering. "

In fact, I always thought being alone in the dark. There was nobody else but me, they left me there alone and without hope. There was not the color I was alone in thinking see.

We are never alone in the dark. In Lost City, the lost souls still change.

I sat, stunned, in the darkness, facing the young blond man who rubbed his head. The crash had rendered us deaf, we were confused. As if to return all sense of direction, dig a new path, start at the end of the night. The young blond man, the man of the sea, looked seriously messed up, his eyes trembling, silent ...

But he always had that smile.

I Have A Sore In My Gums Near My Tooth Extraction

Spears freeze the sun in moist soil and pierce the shadows flee, naked and empty. The rain falls, the smell that sometimes the grass allowed to rise, warm and vague.
hands of children are always dirty, rain, dirty fingers of earth and leaves. So we hear of children through nursery rhymes, in the gardens in bloom by the tears of light.
on the short grass green wave that rises and falls, whispering in our ears:
- "Minor crackling farandoles major."
is a man hanging from the tree said: "This print is pignochée of light." The man is the tree, his words are masked by the noise of the rain runs off. Her feet dangling from the ground.
Behind him a stone, a rock star. A large stone sinking, smooth, covered with water from the boredom. Joyful rhymes are lost, are silent. They suffocate in the forest timber of milk in the doldrums of things.
blood stain the grass black. And children run in lanes plant after traces of blood as small stones of the labyrinth. To dig holes, and rock, the epitaph on the tomb Scots, in light of the moon. Nothingness that flows over the smooth stone ages, children find themselves in the forest where there is nothing to do, nothing, he is just human.
Man dug holes, his face covered with blood. And his head leaning on the bark, he thinks about the water on his face, to us, face, dust and earth against the embrace of the universe.

The rope of boredom, hanging around his neck, was hanging from the tree.

"A king without entertainment is a man full of misery."

Why Do My Gums Feel Swollen

Daydream Believer

was a defining moment

And he was still black

The dreamer and the queen homebody live a love story that does not exist

is still the creation of the dreamer

He who sees while blooming on the hill, she has her face blurred

* * *

was a defining moment

In full day on the hill, she was sitting on the fresh grass, the wind brought the petals of flowers in her hair black.

I could approach him, we would have loved again without vacuum.

Daydream believer this music ... Agreements and lovers come together, there is no darkness.

Daydream believer. You, always: that I can reach, sought in tears and in childhood, almost-always-absent.

The light will go out on you, his eyes riveted on the heart that uses.

A daydream believer and a year home coming queen.

(written in 2008)

Bought A Car Can I Return It Uk

漢字 を 食べましょう

Elise and Arai sensei

Francesconi is the leader who speaks to you!

My God! One more day not to kanji. Approach and retraction! Ah, but you pagan band lovers and small, do you understand the anguish of kanji? Do you ever ... eaten kanji?

Kanji is a gourmet dish, but which in high doses causes indigestion true. There is little that can withstand the Japanese that!

A "kanji" is the Japanese translation of "Chinese character." (汉 association, kan, Chinese. 字, ji, character). It is also, by same time, the nightmare of many Japanese-inspired. Briefly (fifteen minutes Cultural tadaaam): Japanese writing is complex. It consists of two sillabaires and a set of Chinese character. The hiragana, all Japanese syllables, are used to write all the words of Japanese origin, but are mainly used for the conjugation of verbs, adjectives and grammatical particles. Katakana are used to transcribe the foreign words. Chinese characters themselves, as can the hiragana to transcribe the names, verbs, adjectives and others with ideograms. They are then preferred to hiragana. The writing of the Japanese language is from the writing of Chinese. The hiragana and Chinese characters are used together to make sentences. Well, after this rough explanation, you understand that to write and read Japanese, do as in Chinese, ie banging rows and rows of characters to learn, to forget them quickly.

It happens very quickly to have a hate relationship with Chinese characters, especially at first. First, we must know the key that unlocks the character and gives him something in common with all others. "So is this the key to human or water or fish ... oh no it's true that it looks like the rolling stone in a small spring morning - - "). Once the character found, you must learn its meaning (then honyomi is "shi" (like 50 other characters) and "tabe" in kunyomi, but from the Kanji to kana, it depends arrangement Star ... ooh hard!) Finally, write a character, know that it is better to follow an order of plot lines! Because in addition to being demanding, writing characters is also an art almost divine (missed more than that!) You are now a moron to your office after each time you learn a character . "Then write to the water it is a very like that in TWO's how ..." . So, you learn 10 and for a good hour and a pleasant surprise awaits you! You realize that once the final route ... "Gee, What was the first already? " Yes, do the Japanese, it is reproducing the myth of Sisyphus (シジウフ だ よ)

But kanji, there and everywhere all the time so we need to learn them in droves. What is good is that after a while, the hand takes the trick and saves a lot easier. However, the good teachers do not tell us that their difficulty is growing. Yum yum the kanji 仪: 14 strokes to tell "rule." Yum yum 歳 the kanji (sai, or "age") and her 13 strokes!

You feast is not it? The kanji are in any case the campus of Le Havre, a proof of the willingness of students not being studious. "Enough is enough ", "It's too infamous," "I craaaaaaque (uh, Lina, down from the table if you like): yes because students in addition to learning characters, Japanese swallow a shovel (and yet it seems it's going slowly, they are cute) and sometimes they get crazy.

Obviously, nobody has the same relationship with the kanji:
-ago first teachers of the Japanese : "Oooh, but it fashiru (は は むす かしく ない よ ... you're talking!). It's like this, like this and still like that, then as it>>> 戦 (tadaam! ). Hi, hi, hi "

-You then false jaded:" No, but I learned nothing too !"..." Uh, but you've had 20 out of 20 here? ". .. "Yeah but still!"

-You the malignant : "Well, Yuri-san, why am writing characters to the table before the test, you're not ready?" "No, no, it's just that they are before us during the Interro to bilk the teacher! "

-You normal pupils:" Uh Katchenin, why not you follow the course of International Relations in Asia? "" I have not worked my kanji! " "" But it's in 30 minutes! " Yes, the kanji can be learned very well on the lap during lessons very boring. A bit like crosswords or sudoku.

-You also geeks characters :
"-Paaauul, I can write" vending machine "in Japanese, and there are five characters!" "But we had
not learn?
No, but I wanted!

Or again: "Paaauuul in my arms is too good this kanji! (Small awkward silence)" "Hum-beautiful! But that is how long are you doing kanji?" -Nearly three hours, and after I do some Korean! "But it's two o'clock in the morning! (Well, you say, they are people who play WOW, some not!)


-You also the hopelessly "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, I will not hold back!" And then the geek characters to answer "Yes, it's easy! Is the fish on the key water with fire and the woman who cooked rice underneath. Watch (character drawn in 3 seconds) "
-Yeah, I had to learn Vietnamese! At least, colonization will forget their Chinese characters!"

You'll understand that we can not remain when the marble semiological superiority of the Chinese characters! But hey, sometimes I'm a bit skeptical when I need a time to teach me to write characters that will allow me to read the name of a subway station. Nothing ventured, nothing is a fool!

Japan and kanji (and Japanese!) Is J-2.所 懸命 頑張っ て ください ね. "But that means quoiiiiiiiiiii?" "-T 'busy! Eat your kanji! "

I Think My Dog Is Having Mini Strokes

"In the city lost "

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In Lost City, I was at the Table of Dreams. It smelled of spilled alcohol. The room was filled with blue smoke rising from nowhere. Women in mini-skirts walking four paws on the walls, with pink and purple glasses, as lost. There were not many people on the ground. The house was a maze inhabited by ghosts. The speakers spewed a slow and melodious music.

"You look like this dream I had once
What I've done so many times I've done with you
Say we remake? Say? Is the remake?
Go! Say it, that we remake ... "
She danced, exalting all forms of his body like crazy. The convolutions of his chest eagerly imitated the curve of her buttocks. Boum. The body of music. Boum. Lustful gaze. Boum. It was also the one with whom you would love without reason, do it again as if to a dream. When she danced, she ignored the empty, and emptied my stomach heat. My mind was foggy that night.

" You ignore the void in front of you!
Vertigo and fear, you know.
You ignore the void in front of you!

Vertigo and death, you know ."

The house was a maze fluorescent green and black. The doors slammed, leaving out sometimes lovers, sometimes crazy people. Between two lanes, at a crossroads, there was a mirror encrusted with rubies and emeralds. I have put my eyes to see the bottom of my iris. And I saw him behind me.

" You look like the wreck that I once did
What I've done too many times, that I was with you

Say we remake? Say? We redo?

swear Go, go spit! That the remake! "

He was tall and blond, back, and he walked into a very dark corridor. The music continues, the dream in the cheeks, so I decided to follow him, as to show its true face. His gait was slow, quiet: it showed nothing. He continued to walk down the corridor with no light, sinking slowly in the shade.

I followed him in avoiding the fools who came to the hall. Emerging from the darkness, like cars in distress, like fireworks, they slaloming between me and the blond man. I got scared at first but I kept walking, fascinated by the scout who advanced without a shudder, as if seeing in the dark.

-born Sleep in darkness and inspires dreams-. It was dark all around and the silence was gaining space. My eyes became accustomed to the absence of light and I saw a small room where we could not get out. A bit like a dream.

The blond man turned around. I saw her beautiful sad face, carved like a dummy. The darkness was digging her face. He did not utter a word. In the distance we could still hear snatches of the festival.

The man walked again, circling the room. At first I thought he knew where he went. But I realized quickly that he walked at random, with an unsteady gait. I tried to call him to guide him as he was lost. In vain. The man, inevitably, hit me hard.

Because he did not see in the dark.

"In the lost city, through the night

You, you see, you you see

Across, pain and melancholy
Everything will be alright, everything will be fine. "

(passages in quotes are taken from the song" Across the neon "Damian Marley)

Walk In Clinic Whit Pediatrition Toronto

Bharat, Bharat

From Parveen's because

(...)

In India, it is a certainty, it's cold! Or so I tell myself, in front of our car. Parveen Kumar our driver, to please us, put the air conditioning on fourth power, and despite 40 degrees outside, we frôlons, my parents and me a certain hypothermia. There's something ironic to live in as many fresh, taking the road to a country as huge and hot. It's like if it were a protective cocoon against the power of the giant Bharat.

(...)

India, at first glance, the brothel, even behind the windows of air-conditioned coach. When we arrived at 6 am in Delhi, the sun rose in the middle streets without sidewalks or tar. Its rays across the canvases of electric son, hundreds of haphazardly connected son, giving the impression of being caught in a spider web. After filing cases at the hotel, we ventured into the streets and in the fourth dimension. A Karol Bagh neighborhood yet easier than Old Delhi, a seething mass of people, no sense of traffic on the road, horns everywhere, people who want to sell anything and everything, noise, sputum, cows, children, even a little noise, screaming and ulcerative poverty, work (it was on it before the bad beginning Commonwealth Games), Hindu music, a giant statue of Hanuman, noise, some noise, but noise! Blackout! Back panicked at the hotel and nap in air-conditioned room stinker ... "Do not ask me ever released! "I told myself.

A Cow on top of the Men

(...)

India requires some acclimatization, which requires flexibility to adapt. The brain is constantly stimulated by things that we never arrive. At first we felt a real sense of aggression. It is not uncommon, when get into the taxi, women with their babies crying you ask for money. This horrible act: the hand touches the mouth before positioning itself to beg, as if to mimic his hunger remains etched in my memory as a dance macabre. We were locked in the car until the driver while they were beating with their rings against the windows, showing us their children scream. They were five, all with a baby in her arms. The noise of the air a bit obscured their litany beggar, and the inevitable guilt of affluent West.

More drive to Pushkar time monsoon

(...)

Enjoy!

Leave the air conditioning is possible. But he must expect to see warm and India, relentlessly plural. We visited the Rajasthan and the Ganges Valley (Uttar Pradesh), which is in itself, two different worlds, although both in Northern India. We went through Jaipur, Pushkar, Agra, Vanarasi, Haridwar and Rishikesh before returning to New Delhi, our starting point. Alternation between large cities and tiring and devouring small towns that inspired the hippies of the world: my heart between the two scales. Big city, small village: tradition and modernity? This cliché is nonetheless real in India, although less duel and sliced. I do not think the two are a real couple to the contrary. Here, tradition has really brought into modernity: there is a reality that most Indian identity that is struggling to regain its traditional roots. This conflict seems to exist, certainly. But it not to think of a paradise lost when you see two Sikhs in drinking a Coca Cola at a street corner. India is a bit like a "Jack-in-the-box. Surprises are around every corner, good or bad. The most impressive may be the religious, ubiquitous, powerful, colorful, noisy and incomprehensible. India is a world well-tempered political system, government ubiquitous despite the apparent chaos, own culture and cinema, dozens of different languages, a particular food, its own facts and its own religious shrines, a History endless its industries and monopolies ... You feel so tiny in his car as a tourist.

A store of Karol Bagh

(...)

"Dear Amelia, dear Dylan ... Thank you for welcoming me in Delhi during the holidays. I was very happy to see you and wish you all the happiness in the world. I hope you are well and that you get to the native customs. I envy you! Enjoy! " What's funny is the pleasure that one has to find the known when you are in complete blur. Spend hours in a restaurant of Tamil speaking a distant reality, to gossip, to tell each other our Lives, our setbacks and our successes. No doubt about it: experience, love is good only if it is shared with others. I love sharing my life in the midst of a thali!

(...)

How to love a film without understanding it?

"I want he sees what I see . Vanarasi is a major holy city. However, I managed to find small streets, small maze filled with tiny shops and restaurants. A labyrinth alive with crowds and laughter, yet very quiet. He then started to rain. And not a little rain monsoon, or each drop is a bucket of water that overflowed the streets. A merchant, for once not envious of me to buy any tinkering, I was offered to sit in his shop until the rain stops. Without a sound, we waited for the end of the rain. I told myself that I needed to get them there, we see our mutual friends to the four corners of India. We had people that I see it, they see what I saw. Some go on a trip to cut their lives, to forget, or try to forget what is behind the leak problems. I love traveling to impoverish myself, question everything, and finding places that other love, to love them more later.

(...) I do not bathe in the Ganges. But in the distance, she came out of the water, back, dripping. Strange feeling of capsizing, though to get back quickly on the right path of travel.

"In her sari na plin zimage"

(...)

Fatigue

India had crippled ...

fatigue. India for three weeks, it's tired, and when you're a tourist, you are alone. And how not to think?

... but she continued to look to the future

(...)

"In the rain, we could not see That
air orange and red
And the buildings of an old dream
Lined with light green and pink. "

course I happened to think. How not to think about when you sit on the ghats of Pushkar, a wonderful small town in Rajasthan, a town of hippies. I always had a propensity to daydream. I like to think of love, because it makes me live. Some do not think, or are afraid to think. Me too I think. And how not to be a machine to love, when we see such a city. Orange city when it rains, white city. One could spend hours and not return. What we can learn from India, it is this fascination that can take us anywhere and this diversity that explodes our codes and values. If Europe likes Unity, the One, India is divided ever contingent and multiple, in a harmonious chaos. So Parveen asks us back into the car for the next destination. And you go back on the road in Bharat, with Indian music to the ears and eyes open. Jai ho, my friend, Jay ho!