Fall 2010.
Beautiful stars shining in the sky Correze. The glancing
ablaze beech and hornbeam
... We took the coffee at sidewalk cafes and patios of the houses. It began
the last steps in the November sun.
Yesterday, a small crowd of relatives and friends Friday morning formed in a slow procession of colorful umbrellas close behind the old hearse.
It is dark.
It's cold.
A fine rain blurs the horizon.
Yesterday, some villagers were gathered around almost many of the city fathers, flags and firefighters, old and young. School children have read the message from Secretary of State and skinned yet familiar names, sometimes that of their families or their neighbors, inscribed on the monument erected to the dead in the courtyard of the village hall. A discrete baffle
scuffs the Marseillaise.
The ministerial speech evokes the student demonstrations of November 1940.
Television and the press we will speak again in emulation of General de Gaulle, who died forty years ago. As they had over-covered the anniversary of June 18
As if on 11 November when the last witnesses of the Great War have all disappeared, so when the memory fades before history, when the mood wife climate, we clung to the distant memories a certain grandeur of France.
Nostalgia.
Can there be in nostalgia springs rebound? The
roads glisten in the golden leaves as the wind and drizzle to pluck gray branches. The heavy soils and red ochres reflect large trees rusty.
President queue Seoul inaugurate its new global destiny.
The war of currencies is it a war?
François Fillon's government has to resign.
Retirement? No comments
around sauerkraut giant union lonzacoise sport, where the party is in full swing.
Who - outside the media, of course - s'émoustille still really waiting for a new government?
The leaves ...
the backdrop of brown wash, the decor comes off
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