Why Did You Need To Transfer The Metal

Prose of Roma! Who are you?

This text is not mine but of Vonvon .

Roma ... Who are you?

Roma

who are you

who are you

Travellers

eternal travelers what Trip

each wheel hub

Roma

funny name

one thinks or Roman Romanian

when I was kid

or romano gypsy

bohemian what a beautiful name

now I am confused

who is who

Roma caravans without

and are

Romanian Roma and Romanian and sedentary

those moving

nomads

are French

gypsies gypsy gypsy

not simple

for gadjo I'm

And why your reception areas or high traffic

are they surrounded by fences

a closed iron gate

missing the watchtowers

cameras are perhaps already

Me does the word hated in his time

"Apartheid"

fought boycotted

you're condemned to live "separate"

or is it a claim

not Simple

Where you'll Roma

you'll be better

is always better

where you'll

And in our memories

us poor gadjos

it is a trailer

somewhere

an original idea

If you did not exist

you would still

invented

Juno Bleeker Running Short

Pleasure, joy of return - Cheesecake Yogurt fig

Ah, the happiness of holiday splendor of Greece and the Cyclades, a thousand creeks divine, fresh meals under the arbor, local music and shots of rakomelo galore ...

but guess what, we must return. Dealer with the joys and logistics of the return. Just put your foot in London, I had to try to communicate with the customer service of this priceless service provider we call Orangette, history to respect his privacy.

In France, immeasurable joy. But from abroad, it is a nameless spell, nay, a moment of joy beyond measure.

Already, we must find the equivalent 10-digit short code, first delight. We get lost in the maze, laughing voluptuous support site, a maze of philosophical logic rare

- "If you are a customer Orangette Internet, and you have lost your password, type your username and password given on your registration e-8 years ago, we will send you your password. Fortunately, Orangette is always there for you. "

-" If you encounter a problem, you can also call the 007, the agent will help you Orangette "

-" If you live in Saint Pierre and Miquelon, make the 08,007,007, premium number to 99 € the second "

-" For the others ... pfff ... Orangette is not God! "

Keep cool. I find it a safe number. From there, we said yes but no, we should call this number there, but yes c ' is the one I just to , yes but no, I will transfer, really? , yes yes of course, Orangette is there for you. Thanks, but now it has cut. Orangette hello? Ah yes but no, this must be another number, ah thank you! Ah number is not assigned? Mr Alllllloooo Orangette, help me please ! Orangette will be pleased to respond to the opening hours!

24 hours later: France Orangette hello! Ahhh, but there you are in the service Rhone Alps, I'm just the Rhone Alps eh! This issue must be there! But is the one I just did! Oh but here is the Rhone Alps, try again, you will approach may be to Paris!

Oh I love France.

Staying a few more moments in these dream islands, savor the sea opposite to our breakfast of yogurt, honey and nuts, then maybe a little Dakos - a slice of stale bread soaked in tomato, pepper , feta, capers and a good ladle of olive oil, a mackerel smoked grilled tartinons us tzatziki and scordalia, beautiful almond cream and garlic ...

Before the islands, a few days in the family home, during which I have put me in the kitchen for a few recipes with ingredients from the garden, the rule of thumb: watermelon gazpacho, melon and green tomatoes, pistachio nuts cantuccini figs and the famous Greek cheese cake, fig, orange and yoghurt from sheep.

Er is when the next vacation?

***

Cheese Cake Fig Orange yoghurt from sheep

For the base:
two large handles kourabiedes, Greek almond biscuits
a little water
Reduce kourabiedes powder, mix with a little water to make a paste. Spread in bottom of pan and bake for ten minutes in hot oven.

Puree figs:
Go pick a score of figs on the tree closest to the pool. Peel and mash with a fork. Spread over the pastry base.

Cream:
300 grams of yoghurt from sheep
A whole cup of sugar 3 eggs

2 tablespoons flour
1 / 2 orange

Separate yolks from whites. Mix the yolks with yogurt, add the orange juice and flour. Whisk the egg whites, adding sugar gradually. Stir the egg whites to the mixture of yogurt. Pour over the pastry base + figs. Bake about one hour at 100 degrees. Cool, then place in a cool several hours before taste.

***

What To Substitute For Wax Strips

Farewell! Human work

FAREWELL

Fall already!

But why regret an eternal sun, if we committed to discovering the divine light, away from people who die with the seasons.

fall. Our boat high in the fog, turns to the port of poverty, enormous city sky stained with fire and mud. Ah! the rotten rags, soaked bread of rain, the drunkenness, the thousand loves that have crucified me! So it will end this point ghoul queen of millions of souls and dead bodies and will judged! I remember the skin eaten by mud and plague, worms full hair and armpits and still biggest worms in the heart, lying among strangers without age, without feeling ... I could have died there ... The horrible memory! I hate poverty.

And I dread the winter because it's the season of comfort!

- Sometimes the sky I see the endless beaches covered with white nations joy. A great golden ship, above me, waves his colored pennants in the breeze

am. I created all the holidays, every triumph, every drama. I tried to invent new flowers, new stars, new flesh, new languages . I thought to acquire supernatural powers. Well! I must bury my imagination and my memories! A fine career as an artist and storyteller!

Me! I who called myself magus or angel, exempt from all morality, I went to ground, with a duty to try and rough reality to embrace! Peasant!

Am I wrong? charity if it sister of death for me? Finally, I ask forgiveness for having fed on lies. And going. But not a friendly hand! and where look for help?

Yes, the new era is less severe.

For I can say that victory is mine: the gnashing of teeth, the hissing of fire, stinking sighs subside. All the memories fade unclean. My last longings, - envy beggars, robbers, friends of the dead, arrears of all kinds. - Damned if I took my revenge!

must be absolutely modern.

No hymns: hold not win. Tough night! The dried blood smokes on my face, and I have nothing behind me but that repulsive little tree! ... Spiritual combat is as brutal the battle of men, but the vision of justice is the pleasure of God alone.

However it yesterday. All receive new strength and real tenderness.

And at dawn, armed with a burning patience, we shall enter the splendid cities. What I was talking about a friendly hand! A great advantage is that I can laugh at old false loves, and put to shame those lying couples

-I saw the hell of women there;

- and I will be free to

possess the truth in a soul and a body .

April to August 1873 in April 1873.

Again and again: Arthur Raimbaud!

Lose Inches Fast Preperation H

LIGHTNING

Human work! That explosion lights up my abyss from time to time.

"Nothing is vanity to science, and forward!" Cries the modern Ecclesiastes, that is to say

Everyone .

And yet the corpses of the wicked and lazy fall on the hearts of others ... Ah! hurry, hurry a little, there, beyond the night, these future rewards, eternal ... the escape us ...

"What will I do? I know the work, and science is too slow, Let prayer gallops rumbles and the light ... I can see that. It's too simple, and it's too hot, we will me. I have my duty, I'm proud in how many, by putting it aside.

My life is worn. Come on! pretend, idle, oh mercy! And we exist in us fun, dreaming of monstrous loves and fantastic universes, by complaining and quarreling appearances of the world, acrobat, beggar, artist, thief, priest!

On my hospital bed, the smell of incense came back so strong, the guardian of sacred herbs , confessor, martyr ...

I recognize my dirty childhood education. Then what! ... Go my twenty years if the others will twenty ...

No! no! now I rebel against death! The work seems too light in my pride: my world would be a betrayal to the punishment too short. At the last moment

I would attack the right, left ...

So -

oh! - Poor dear soul, eternity would not be lost to us!

Arthur Rimbaud