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Happy New Year. 2009




May 2009 be a year
move for us, for you
for you, for me
wishes for them

Kto Nierad Robi, Temu .

Wings. Cocktail Sofa



You told me wanting me a gift
I thought everything except your skin.
Father Christmas this year is sophisitiqué
Hay tape I'm already very excited.

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Soon Christmas Will Be Here. Isolation



As I Am Being Asked for translation of repeatedely Some text, please find my best pass on this one, please pardon my French ...:)


She Did Look Through The Windows The Joggers Running Around the Central Park reservoir. No sound Reach The Eighth floor. Lying On The Sofa she distractedly chews the brown strip bar she just bought furtively in front of Saks Fifth Avenue.
A bitter taste that rises to the head and reminds her unconsciously of an afternoon she had spent on the deck of the boat of Jim Baker on Lake Tahoe. Jim wanted to take her on a tour of the brothels of the Nevada desert. She had given him a blowjob and it had made the day. Jim is dead anyway. An accident driving his Mustang. Two years? Three can not be.

There are no more leaves on the trees at this time of the year and one can guess that snow will come without further delay. Another winter.
She will soon be fifteen years old. Esther, her mother, had promised to call to celebrate. But she had already made the same promise last year, and with her trip to the Maldives islands, she had not been able to do it. The communications are not perfect it seems in those islands.

Anyway she has bought several of the brown strips for the occasion with a few bottles of Russian vodka. In the jacuzzi on the terrace this should do the trick. She puts her shawl back on her shoulders. It's cold tonight.

She puts a Coldplay disc on, and watches her face nicely madeup in the mirror. She gently caresses her legs. They are smooth and thin. She could call Mike the concierge. She knows how much he loves to take her the doggy way on the sofa with his face turned towards Central Park. Once a week he takes her like this, in a violent way, sometimes two, when it burns too much between her legs. Well it's too cold. It is said, she will call him.

Mike never ends. He had promised, already a quarter of an hour ago, to be there in five minutes. He must still be commenting the last baseball game with Zak, his buddy from Harlem, in front of the building under the red canopy of the front hall. She is trembling of cold and hot. She looks down at the small horse carriages passing with their hord of hilarious tourists perched on them. They look so small. It is decided, if Mike is not there in ten minutes she will join them. She looks at her Rolex in a hagard way. There. Fifteen minutes already. She opens the windows, puts the shawl with great caution back on the sofa, adjusts her hair in the mirror, climbs the railing and jumps.

The phone rings. Three rings before The Answering Machine Begins to register.

"Sweetheart it's Esther, Your Mother, You Need To Tell Me What you want me for your birthday and for Christmas. This is coming so fast"

Yes It Is True, It Will Be Christmas soon.

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white walls. Bars on the window. But why these bars over my head?

I emerge slowly from a nightmare of doors that open and close. With each new door an archer shoots an arrow in my belly. An owl with big eyes has ruffled the points. A clock in the Black Forest, in the form of cottage, a tempo beats deaf. Tic tac. Tic tac. I will give everything for it stops. I try to reach out in order to stop the pendulum. I have not the strength. My arms are as inert and lifeless.

feathers of the owl landed in my throat. They choke me. My tongue is heavy and pasty. It smells like urine too. The owl turns its head in concentric circles of increasingly tight. The white neon in the air. Miniature circuit on my ten years of the red car turn faster and faster. Tic tac. tic tac. The pendulum passing over my head relentlessly.

- He is here since yesterday. A schizophrenic crisis. The police took him. We will admit the UMD.

She is blonde, like a barley sugar. White dazzled by her blouse. I would like to touch his leg, but the straps prevent me. I do not know where it came. There is no door in the room. There is more.

I remember we sold my miniature circuit. That was before the house. Door of the house without my ten years.

- We'll get a bite sir. Do not worry, it will not be painful.

She has a small collar that beats in the hollow of his throat. Who is ticking more slowly, leaning on me. Do not hear ticking. Do not listen. My tears slide into the mouth. They have a salty taste. A taste of ocean. Do not fall asleep in the sea more heard.

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Wings. Chateau de voyage immobile

-------------------------------- ------------ 30----------- ------------------------ 19 h

---------- -------------------------------------- - Ile Saint Louis ------------------------------------------

- ----------------------------------- Focus On Your Eyes ---------- ----------------------- -------------------------

Cascade ----------- ------------------------------- In Your Hair

- Dazzled -------------------------------------------- ----- --------------------------------------- ---------

30----------- ----------------------------------- 06 h - ---------------------------------

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Dillier



It was getting dark in the courtyard of the castle Dillier. The day had been long and lascivious. These ladies had played croquet, helped the gardener to clear weeds from the yucca, and now took their tea. The leaves came directly from the plantation of Uncle Paul on Mauritius. It was not doing better. The girls had the boat on the moat, attempted to capture the pike in the net and caressed a thousand ears of Farouk, the farmer's dog, and those of the last foal born.

- Mother, look how my civet droppings dress.
- I told you to watch Anne Sophie. More work for good ...

Mary remained in her corner. She had remained silent throughout the day. Anne Sophie had seen her cousin locked in the shunned for an hour, but she had so much to do that she had not really paid attention.

Mr. Dillier of speechifying.

- This colt I intend to make a champion. I will instruct the farmer in the Beaumont and in a year he will run in price from the Arc de Triomphe.

- You always have delusions of grandeur John. But it is true that his pedigree speaks for itself. I will take out a little of your calva. It was so long as I had not had the pleasure to drink. That's another thing our rum.

Genevieve gave a tug on the leash to his turtle. Another crazy idea of Uncle Paul. He brought back an all cousins. They were fed on the grass above the pond and had tried unsuccessfully to get them to do a race.

Genevieve tried to question Mary.

- You do not look good today gay cousin.

Mary kept her head bowed. She stammered.

- Let me ... It was because of Uncle Paul.

- Uncle Paul?

- Yes. This morning he told me asked to come with him in the red room. He said he had brought a gift. Et .. and then he hit me under my dress. Et .. he asked me to touch him too.

Suddenly Mary, red face screamed:

- Farouk! By Farouk. The Beauceron

rushed towards her in a silent movement. Her eyes shining in the middle of his shiny black hair and stared at intensely now.

- Attack! Attack! intima him she does, pointing to the turtle who was dozing at the end of his leash. Deeply

Farouk fell on the turtle before she had time to go into its shell and massacred growling. The cousins looked

the scene without doing anything with a smile on his lips.

Lady Dillier ran horrified.

- But then what happens there? John! John, call the gardener. Paul do something!

Uncle Paul grumbled.

- These children are unbearable. Fortunately we will develop the residential that.