Ce fut alors que se produisit l'incident qui nous fit connaitre
It was then that the incident occurred which made us know. I was there.
I could not see the men, men who spoil the profession, men who want everything goes wrong, men who sell false weights, who mouth the void with boredom, boredom with the crime, crime with the money, the woman who takes the complication of intelligence, the woman who takes in four poor to wear a rich miser, the man who surpasses the man who loves traitors one who bullied you to prove the strength and wicked idleness, the man who steals the name of the law, the man who lies to you in the figure, the man who tells you hard: this is how , the man who led the slaughter with an omelette gold on his head, the man called Durand, Meyer or Lesbeau Sontompoyr of the man and the woman look in his eyes, biting mouth, toast the navel are three towers waltz together, echevellent, pale and sweating, trying to kill himself, be ironed at others, deprennent turning again to never happen again, and sink reeling under hoops of death. Poor badly rigged vessels, poor bags badly stowed, poor sad eggs!
Disused our mechanical, sick of all caviar, inflated to vomit grief that I had this absurd blonde, I saw the flowers of Champ-de-Mars. A blow for reconnecting, get dressed my child sense, pick how I was good, feel my eyes watering, my cheeks blush. Vacation! The smell of a field of wheat at night, the glow worms on the field button, a church singing helped bees and anvils, do I still understand these flowers? And I pushed my whole head. It did not make. Not really anything there that small liquor glasses drinking nicely to the health of the sky. No storm, no hands clasped, no rattling, no mystery. I felt bitter tears up. My hands were heavy. I sang vaguely.
Ask the gysmnasti-that
The strength you lack encor
Your feet take the sharp rise
And your arms
Flexibility
Elastic i-that.
Thereupon, without thinking, I gave the shot intimate foot.
When you're at the highest point of despair, overlooking mancenillier. Go up the charm at breast height. Not have more rights in front of you. Rudder height. Romps the cerele and rising! More captious words. Most of those looks of conscious and organized that make you shudder oyster. Gives the kick gives it. Monte. I'll teach you.
On my bed, drugged silence and grief.
On my bed, like a violin in its case. I think rises stratus lids.
Engines. Muffled drums day.
Seul. My mother and Julienne are sorties.-Through the open window on the glassy sky, birds singing three hours. A fly comes the end of the world. It starts with the kitchen faucet made of a straight, fairly valuable sonata takes me moaning on the path of pain.
I ride. Below me, endless strips of flypaper, covered gray bread fresh men coming in small packages in holes agglutinating in piping tubes which advanced a little on the horizon, sorted into stairs, transported vertically in glassy boxes, stored on infectious wood on terraces around a colossal statue, donned grain to grain in the rigging of iron tower. The gray bars slowly vannaient their caviar, with explosions Lamoureux concert, stops by the sea, typhoons, seismic confusion, swarms of flesh full of clamor windblown, training shot into stars, unconscious mathematical crowds, pretentious mathematical wars, monomials going to school, students who go to died. Tubing-time. Slight complaint of a tram in the evening. Taste on the tongue bluish opalescent. The sky fights as a fan. It is night. Higher costs in stamps. Passage in a velodrome at the height of small squares. A cigarette lighter Chow hundred faces and hands hanging. An ink stroke, a light gap left on the right. I spill a puppet wax sleeping standing with raised finger, a tailor, a headless woman in a corset. Opera took an angle, wasp nest rioted against two Cetonids it melts in the distance as small red and gold full dentures. Torride.-Stop-Entry in a dark funnel. Rhythm Factory! Projector! A cauliflower smoke marl, large anteater spits tirelessly, iron horse stuck troops, a noisy cricket over a ball that starts to burn! 'But then? ... Already fini.-The night was calm, endless. Unrecognizable Avenue. An omnibus shelf filled with trinkets sad. A party of weird lampposts, poppy heads full of old thoughts. This character armed with a cane trying to turn me, and swing stops ...-Day. I am in severe street, I read on a door: Central School. I see my father out with a round hat, his face young man, a thin beard that I've never known him. Father! So it has permission to death? Listen! ... Too tard.-Les Tuileries, gatehouse with two hundred guards face to face. One feels a great day is coming. A golden room. Mr. Poyard comes to give her lesson to Prince imperial.-Toned. Rouen. Father Pivet walking unhurriedly to the workshops of the station hanging out with pleasure his hand on the parapet of the already hot pont.-Day night, card tricks. I waver a square quinquet. I'm going through the flash tapisfranc where Rodolphe.-dominates Then suddenly the light eats. A scratchy devours the city. I am Broom Street over a paste ringed vermin of smoke, a little higher than a pile of bodies in front of the window of the Force. Birds fled. I grazes one that seems an unusual case. This is a head on a pike, mouth drawn aside on the teeth. Deaf arquebusades agree, streets sizzle. Caviar again.-Shifter. A cul de dungeon black like an oven, cakes of old Paris. I cagou that disrupts a plague and snorts.-Day. Three dead cute on the Place Royale. Two others are struggling to pot and wing feu.-kick. It screams Christmas. The streets full of burning wax, carpets windows, fountains ragent wine. Caviar.-Escape. Terrible hissing. Five centuries ago, a compound responds softly. This is a fast that crawls after me as a processionary caterpillar. It is the red accordion fever Simplon-Express full Ritz. The poor man! Air call. Above, even faster!
From there, I see life as a landlocked lake in windy mountains of death. The archipelago, they are full of tenderness and mischief blocks, and each block is a man's life, with its top, its turrets, its springs, its beat, fireplaces, flashing lights, noises cooking, music and tears. They invented psychology, but also high, it can not be seen ... From time to time, an island fades and fades visibly darkens visibly, sizzling a bit, here he spins dizzily, the Here flowing peak with a farewell coal sings ... More caviar, more sorrow, only mechanical toys after spiral ...
Helm. Nothing is visible. A silent rupture. The idea of ÔÇïÔÇïthe world is falling like a stone. Three color gall spheres turn to my right.
Lumen.
Canadanses.
Houlorians!
Nebulae spin prodigious cattails, drying turning as pupae. Why are you here, where I am, physicists and mystics! The gods roaring, patriarchs and crystal steam, rhinos and warthogs with angel wings, open glass eyes antique edges as the bloody lips, shoe wonderful spectacles that walking on the atlas glimmers metaphysical brew in Azure future ophicalces trouble and brains quercyite, tisonnent member, dancing in the press blows of hie, dripping with bitumen, seeking form and scalded, sound the horn all their toes, throw planets on curves, and occasionally wake up, like a juggler a line of plates, where the lines of men and all kinds of files that eventually a hearse as a black node after a crawl mat . There is already shaping qualities. There has already, in a corner of this whole saburre, good promise map of France. One of these brains fix the borders armies will ensnare. Orblutes the pass and off into the abyss. Gyroscope and Saturn along the road Gargilesse! Hemorrhagic siren forge ears thousand centuries. The Maelstroms slow and deep glue ferment. Behind the huge corneas, pentacrines cillent gracefully. The great sea cucumber is slowly rising, like a lamppost sperm. What plasms, which bournalions, what Monera, and that is pretty! It will crawl over the millennia underarm banks in the shade of the old trees first, first sharks, snakes along the goitre, giant turtles, fishes and toads exophthalmic pipas responsible children troupe. - first schism in the semen. Polyps kingfishers. Fission. See later the Council of Trent, if I pass. The Massif Central is emerging modestly, full of droppings pterodactyls and promises of love. The mastodons barrissent against volcanoes that have tormented in the light spectra. Tensioners birds chanting saw. What a mess! Earth moving and flowing great bronzes. A huge mob fights in the coal and water. Caviar. Caviar again. Down.
Already heard the tone scales sperm. I stumble and I turn: There there in two red inkwells, harassed by the sounds and touches of their time, a germ dodo, and that a future emperor. (After three months, he began to push their horns, it promises.) I cross lockers, huts, bellies, caves furnished with a large bear manure. A blue and naked tribe, haggard eyes, without eyebrows, black hair for up heels, grouped under a twisted old tree from which hang hammocks empouacres flies. In Quaternary darkness a first traffic lights, greeted by a cry of beast. There will be there later islands, boats white lacquer, a huge tank light and full of beautiful girls and Wagner. A low-village on legs palace. I walked along the Pelasgians slowly. Then, loud noise lock and circus thunder wheels taken off the terminal, gladiators, Caesars cleopâtres.-Frissement great, the dimension in turmoil, changes of plans, love lantern, schism in the semen. Christ. It is already up there, left, amid fresh hive helmets and flowers. A large garden full of muses, of blandusies, madeleines, the singing waters around an altar, with plans lamps shaped boats and mats. Socrates, Chabrier, Verlaine, tipsy angels. A liquid jet at long range, nothing is La Fontaine pissing free verse. Careful, now, those look good, this is all that remains of the old tenderness and black.-Chat-No time to talk. I rushed into a crowded street. I've seen it earlier. A load of light horse wasted caviar. Machecoul massacres. Old houses eaten staircases screw and corridors where men a little strong with beautiful colored heads work and read leaflets, hand beating the table and thigh, full glasses of tears. What is the speaker standing on a drum in a garden full of sunshine? I break down a group of young people singing and crying about a fortepiano by clasping hands. Loudmouths thundering, and this one in the bath, like a sick leg in a boot, healed by an angel in the window of a pharmacy. The Revolution. France has its epochs. This beautiful girl scrolling, heavy semen with the dress open diamond on the thigh meat, and one that kit between two campaigns, hipped a moment an oath: I round ass like an apple! One night in Paris repair it all. Caviar.
The grossoie sperm, germ grows, pushes cervical champignonne in pink mullions in extinguishers in capitals, is divided into dubious channels grows, rayon, takes a deep voice-size boiler fact, dons a top hat (see collection Pinaud and Love through the ages), smoking his pipe, shoes boots with spurs, breakage tibis, shoot tendrils suspenders, fixed-puts his mustache hangs the Legion of Honor outside, shiny scapular centrifugal dirt inside his pen for homework, its slimline and revolver for distance, swells, is ambition, rises Popes in marshals of France negroes, suffers belts, the sympathetic, constipation is the ear, mouth nonsense, leaders of men, poets, loyal engineers, managers privies, farceuses palaces, emperlousees raves, music engravers, pedicures, hair old Cello master, scavengers, strong de la Halle, Gothic and nightlife figures, tuners taps wankers pianos, teachers club, girls suicide; jumps on crutches climbs a little in the sky, airmen, ballonnistes, not far above the backyard, fond of offices suppositories, spits on postage stamps, dab it with his handkerchief, he must do what we did the best we can, caviar.
A ... the window. And I remember this twenty times I go to the window, the smell of time, the present time. On old furniture stone and glass of the street, there is big blue vases. Your heart has been sifted by the woman, hear the old pulsating spheres, looks down, there are two shadows on the sidewalk, two shots scythe rested, clear atom balance, growing in vase of flesh dancing with her Fresh wings clipped, mowed, this is the woman who holds you, it comes in a sweet factory rumor in the broken glass in the vapors in the prolonged roll of the incident that made us know it not to come out, it comes to weight amoeba brought to its highest point of perfection. Germ to germ.
I could not see the men, men who spoil the profession, men who want everything goes wrong, men who sell false weights, who mouth the void with boredom, boredom with the crime, crime with the money, the woman who takes the complication of intelligence, the woman who takes in four poor to wear a rich miser, the man who surpasses the man who loves traitors one who bullied you to prove the strength and wicked idleness, the man who steals the name of the law, the man who lies to you in the figure, the man who tells you hard: this is how , the man who led the slaughter with an omelette gold on his head, the man called Durand, Meyer or Lesbeau Sontompoyr of the man and the woman look in his eyes, biting mouth, toast the navel are three towers waltz together, echevellent, pale and sweating, trying to kill himself, be ironed at others, deprennent turning again to never happen again, and sink reeling under hoops of death. Poor badly rigged vessels, poor bags badly stowed, poor sad eggs!
Disused our mechanical, sick of all caviar, inflated to vomit grief that I had this absurd blonde, I saw the flowers of Champ-de-Mars. A blow for reconnecting, get dressed my child sense, pick how I was good, feel my eyes watering, my cheeks blush. Vacation! The smell of a field of wheat at night, the glow worms on the field button, a church singing helped bees and anvils, do I still understand these flowers? And I pushed my whole head. It did not make. Not really anything there that small liquor glasses drinking nicely to the health of the sky. No storm, no hands clasped, no rattling, no mystery. I felt bitter tears up. My hands were heavy. I sang vaguely.
Ask the gysmnasti-that
The strength you lack encor
Your feet take the sharp rise
And your arms
Flexibility
Elastic i-that.
Thereupon, without thinking, I gave the shot intimate foot.
When you're at the highest point of despair, overlooking mancenillier. Go up the charm at breast height. Not have more rights in front of you. Rudder height. Romps the cerele and rising! More captious words. Most of those looks of conscious and organized that make you shudder oyster. Gives the kick gives it. Monte. I'll teach you.
On my bed, drugged silence and grief.
On my bed, like a violin in its case. I think rises stratus lids.
Engines. Muffled drums day.
Seul. My mother and Julienne are sorties.-Through the open window on the glassy sky, birds singing three hours. A fly comes the end of the world. It starts with the kitchen faucet made of a straight, fairly valuable sonata takes me moaning on the path of pain.
I ride. Below me, endless strips of flypaper, covered gray bread fresh men coming in small packages in holes agglutinating in piping tubes which advanced a little on the horizon, sorted into stairs, transported vertically in glassy boxes, stored on infectious wood on terraces around a colossal statue, donned grain to grain in the rigging of iron tower. The gray bars slowly vannaient their caviar, with explosions Lamoureux concert, stops by the sea, typhoons, seismic confusion, swarms of flesh full of clamor windblown, training shot into stars, unconscious mathematical crowds, pretentious mathematical wars, monomials going to school, students who go to died. Tubing-time. Slight complaint of a tram in the evening. Taste on the tongue bluish opalescent. The sky fights as a fan. It is night. Higher costs in stamps. Passage in a velodrome at the height of small squares. A cigarette lighter Chow hundred faces and hands hanging. An ink stroke, a light gap left on the right. I spill a puppet wax sleeping standing with raised finger, a tailor, a headless woman in a corset. Opera took an angle, wasp nest rioted against two Cetonids it melts in the distance as small red and gold full dentures. Torride.-Stop-Entry in a dark funnel. Rhythm Factory! Projector! A cauliflower smoke marl, large anteater spits tirelessly, iron horse stuck troops, a noisy cricket over a ball that starts to burn! 'But then? ... Already fini.-The night was calm, endless. Unrecognizable Avenue. An omnibus shelf filled with trinkets sad. A party of weird lampposts, poppy heads full of old thoughts. This character armed with a cane trying to turn me, and swing stops ...-Day. I am in severe street, I read on a door: Central School. I see my father out with a round hat, his face young man, a thin beard that I've never known him. Father! So it has permission to death? Listen! ... Too tard.-Les Tuileries, gatehouse with two hundred guards face to face. One feels a great day is coming. A golden room. Mr. Poyard comes to give her lesson to Prince imperial.-Toned. Rouen. Father Pivet walking unhurriedly to the workshops of the station hanging out with pleasure his hand on the parapet of the already hot pont.-Day night, card tricks. I waver a square quinquet. I'm going through the flash tapisfranc where Rodolphe.-dominates Then suddenly the light eats. A scratchy devours the city. I am Broom Street over a paste ringed vermin of smoke, a little higher than a pile of bodies in front of the window of the Force. Birds fled. I grazes one that seems an unusual case. This is a head on a pike, mouth drawn aside on the teeth. Deaf arquebusades agree, streets sizzle. Caviar again.-Shifter. A cul de dungeon black like an oven, cakes of old Paris. I cagou that disrupts a plague and snorts.-Day. Three dead cute on the Place Royale. Two others are struggling to pot and wing feu.-kick. It screams Christmas. The streets full of burning wax, carpets windows, fountains ragent wine. Caviar.-Escape. Terrible hissing. Five centuries ago, a compound responds softly. This is a fast that crawls after me as a processionary caterpillar. It is the red accordion fever Simplon-Express full Ritz. The poor man! Air call. Above, even faster!
From there, I see life as a landlocked lake in windy mountains of death. The archipelago, they are full of tenderness and mischief blocks, and each block is a man's life, with its top, its turrets, its springs, its beat, fireplaces, flashing lights, noises cooking, music and tears. They invented psychology, but also high, it can not be seen ... From time to time, an island fades and fades visibly darkens visibly, sizzling a bit, here he spins dizzily, the Here flowing peak with a farewell coal sings ... More caviar, more sorrow, only mechanical toys after spiral ...
Helm. Nothing is visible. A silent rupture. The idea of ÔÇïÔÇïthe world is falling like a stone. Three color gall spheres turn to my right.
Lumen.
Canadanses.
Houlorians!
Nebulae spin prodigious cattails, drying turning as pupae. Why are you here, where I am, physicists and mystics! The gods roaring, patriarchs and crystal steam, rhinos and warthogs with angel wings, open glass eyes antique edges as the bloody lips, shoe wonderful spectacles that walking on the atlas glimmers metaphysical brew in Azure future ophicalces trouble and brains quercyite, tisonnent member, dancing in the press blows of hie, dripping with bitumen, seeking form and scalded, sound the horn all their toes, throw planets on curves, and occasionally wake up, like a juggler a line of plates, where the lines of men and all kinds of files that eventually a hearse as a black node after a crawl mat . There is already shaping qualities. There has already, in a corner of this whole saburre, good promise map of France. One of these brains fix the borders armies will ensnare. Orblutes the pass and off into the abyss. Gyroscope and Saturn along the road Gargilesse! Hemorrhagic siren forge ears thousand centuries. The Maelstroms slow and deep glue ferment. Behind the huge corneas, pentacrines cillent gracefully. The great sea cucumber is slowly rising, like a lamppost sperm. What plasms, which bournalions, what Monera, and that is pretty! It will crawl over the millennia underarm banks in the shade of the old trees first, first sharks, snakes along the goitre, giant turtles, fishes and toads exophthalmic pipas responsible children troupe. - first schism in the semen. Polyps kingfishers. Fission. See later the Council of Trent, if I pass. The Massif Central is emerging modestly, full of droppings pterodactyls and promises of love. The mastodons barrissent against volcanoes that have tormented in the light spectra. Tensioners birds chanting saw. What a mess! Earth moving and flowing great bronzes. A huge mob fights in the coal and water. Caviar. Caviar again. Down.
Already heard the tone scales sperm. I stumble and I turn: There there in two red inkwells, harassed by the sounds and touches of their time, a germ dodo, and that a future emperor. (After three months, he began to push their horns, it promises.) I cross lockers, huts, bellies, caves furnished with a large bear manure. A blue and naked tribe, haggard eyes, without eyebrows, black hair for up heels, grouped under a twisted old tree from which hang hammocks empouacres flies. In Quaternary darkness a first traffic lights, greeted by a cry of beast. There will be there later islands, boats white lacquer, a huge tank light and full of beautiful girls and Wagner. A low-village on legs palace. I walked along the Pelasgians slowly. Then, loud noise lock and circus thunder wheels taken off the terminal, gladiators, Caesars cleopâtres.-Frissement great, the dimension in turmoil, changes of plans, love lantern, schism in the semen. Christ. It is already up there, left, amid fresh hive helmets and flowers. A large garden full of muses, of blandusies, madeleines, the singing waters around an altar, with plans lamps shaped boats and mats. Socrates, Chabrier, Verlaine, tipsy angels. A liquid jet at long range, nothing is La Fontaine pissing free verse. Careful, now, those look good, this is all that remains of the old tenderness and black.-Chat-No time to talk. I rushed into a crowded street. I've seen it earlier. A load of light horse wasted caviar. Machecoul massacres. Old houses eaten staircases screw and corridors where men a little strong with beautiful colored heads work and read leaflets, hand beating the table and thigh, full glasses of tears. What is the speaker standing on a drum in a garden full of sunshine? I break down a group of young people singing and crying about a fortepiano by clasping hands. Loudmouths thundering, and this one in the bath, like a sick leg in a boot, healed by an angel in the window of a pharmacy. The Revolution. France has its epochs. This beautiful girl scrolling, heavy semen with the dress open diamond on the thigh meat, and one that kit between two campaigns, hipped a moment an oath: I round ass like an apple! One night in Paris repair it all. Caviar.
The grossoie sperm, germ grows, pushes cervical champignonne in pink mullions in extinguishers in capitals, is divided into dubious channels grows, rayon, takes a deep voice-size boiler fact, dons a top hat (see collection Pinaud and Love through the ages), smoking his pipe, shoes boots with spurs, breakage tibis, shoot tendrils suspenders, fixed-puts his mustache hangs the Legion of Honor outside, shiny scapular centrifugal dirt inside his pen for homework, its slimline and revolver for distance, swells, is ambition, rises Popes in marshals of France negroes, suffers belts, the sympathetic, constipation is the ear, mouth nonsense, leaders of men, poets, loyal engineers, managers privies, farceuses palaces, emperlousees raves, music engravers, pedicures, hair old Cello master, scavengers, strong de la Halle, Gothic and nightlife figures, tuners taps wankers pianos, teachers club, girls suicide; jumps on crutches climbs a little in the sky, airmen, ballonnistes, not far above the backyard, fond of offices suppositories, spits on postage stamps, dab it with his handkerchief, he must do what we did the best we can, caviar.
A ... the window. And I remember this twenty times I go to the window, the smell of time, the present time. On old furniture stone and glass of the street, there is big blue vases. Your heart has been sifted by the woman, hear the old pulsating spheres, looks down, there are two shadows on the sidewalk, two shots scythe rested, clear atom balance, growing in vase of flesh dancing with her Fresh wings clipped, mowed, this is the woman who holds you, it comes in a sweet factory rumor in the broken glass in the vapors in the prolonged roll of the incident that made us know it not to come out, it comes to weight amoeba brought to its highest point of perfection. Germ to germ.
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