've HIGH HOPES About U.S. .
[06/04/2010]
[06/04/2010]
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
The Real Milena Velba
Happy dni.Povest_06
December 24
I came to the firm for 20 minutes before they are plugged into your computer, open access to intra-network resources, and removed the protection from external access. In this case, apparently all remained unnoticeable. That night I wrote a few items can, which allowed me to determine where Sylvia. Working while chatting with Etienne and Xavier, I saw how she is moving quickly across the network. So passed two hours. Suddenly, one of my items can shown that the search for Sylvia completed. She found a server and he was in the office of Xavier. It took another two hours and all staff gathered in the dining room. Began congratulations. I pretended to be in the toilet, and quickly walked into the office Berthier. It was closed, but the castle was weak. The office also As in my first arrival there was not a single computer. Wall, desk, bookcases, big picture, next to another picture and all. I was standing near one of the movies Despite the bookcases against the opposite wall and automatically marking their monumentality. Apparently infirm of purpose in his mind broke my balance, I grabbed the picture frame. And suddenly she began to open the door. Behind her stood a live server. With me was a set of screwdrivers. I turned off power, removed the cap and took a drive. Also repeated with the server for another picture. Then he quickly left the room Berthier, went into the room, where he worked and opened directly into his bag device for cleaning disks, put them and turned on. Took the bag, put on his old kreytonskuyu jacket and walked to the door. A security guard at the entrance looked at me and stood up. Behind there was a cry Sulfur-restrain him. I pushed the guard and ran from the building. Beside me, braked the jeep. Sylvia and two guys pulled me into the car. The girl quickly opened my bag and looked at indicators of cleaning devices. Then she got wheels, put them in a bag, made the sign of the driver to slow down and dropped to the pavement. Jeep drove on. 20 minutes later he stopped near a neat church. It was already 19 o'clock and started Vigil Mass of Christmas. We entered. Sylvia took my hand and moved to the right aisle. I saw konfessional in which sat a priest. Sylvia came to him and knelt down. After her I confessed. Again we took each other's hands, and participated in the Mass as a whole. When it came time to partake of us, holding a bowl of wafers, the priest came, whom we confess. He communed us, looked at my jacket and asked if I knew his father, Robert. He was my spiritual father - shocked I said. Priest a mischievous smile. We will soon begin classes for people who want to marry. So come along - and he handed me a card. Sylvia, rather instinctively clung to me and we kissed. And above us sounded the hymn "Angels sing from heaven»
End.
Note:
All the facts and fictional characters.
December 24
I came to the firm for 20 minutes before they are plugged into your computer, open access to intra-network resources, and removed the protection from external access. In this case, apparently all remained unnoticeable. That night I wrote a few items can, which allowed me to determine where Sylvia. Working while chatting with Etienne and Xavier, I saw how she is moving quickly across the network. So passed two hours. Suddenly, one of my items can shown that the search for Sylvia completed. She found a server and he was in the office of Xavier. It took another two hours and all staff gathered in the dining room. Began congratulations. I pretended to be in the toilet, and quickly walked into the office Berthier. It was closed, but the castle was weak. The office also As in my first arrival there was not a single computer. Wall, desk, bookcases, big picture, next to another picture and all. I was standing near one of the movies Despite the bookcases against the opposite wall and automatically marking their monumentality. Apparently infirm of purpose in his mind broke my balance, I grabbed the picture frame. And suddenly she began to open the door. Behind her stood a live server. With me was a set of screwdrivers. I turned off power, removed the cap and took a drive. Also repeated with the server for another picture. Then he quickly left the room Berthier, went into the room, where he worked and opened directly into his bag device for cleaning disks, put them and turned on. Took the bag, put on his old kreytonskuyu jacket and walked to the door. A security guard at the entrance looked at me and stood up. Behind there was a cry Sulfur-restrain him. I pushed the guard and ran from the building. Beside me, braked the jeep. Sylvia and two guys pulled me into the car. The girl quickly opened my bag and looked at indicators of cleaning devices. Then she got wheels, put them in a bag, made the sign of the driver to slow down and dropped to the pavement. Jeep drove on. 20 minutes later he stopped near a neat church. It was already 19 o'clock and started Vigil Mass of Christmas. We entered. Sylvia took my hand and moved to the right aisle. I saw konfessional in which sat a priest. Sylvia came to him and knelt down. After her I confessed. Again we took each other's hands, and participated in the Mass as a whole. When it came time to partake of us, holding a bowl of wafers, the priest came, whom we confess. He communed us, looked at my jacket and asked if I knew his father, Robert. He was my spiritual father - shocked I said. Priest a mischievous smile. We will soon begin classes for people who want to marry. So come along - and he handed me a card. Sylvia, rather instinctively clung to me and we kissed. And above us sounded the hymn "Angels sing from heaven»
End.
Note:
All the facts and fictional characters.
What Does The Period Look Like]
Happy dni.Povest_05
conversation.
Sylvia went to the small sofa in the office of N. We sat down. The girl spoke first. "When we met at Manresa, I almost never lie to you" - she said. I really call Sylvia Dupree. I did not say that I have a sister - twin Julie and my father died of cancer when we were 9 years old. We were very close to Julie people. Even studied together, just not at the Sorbonne, and in EFREI - Ecole d'Ingenieurs des Technologies de l'Information et du Management. Already in the second year we were invited to work in the center of operations against the violence. I think not only because of our ability, but also because Julie and I have created a network that helps identify high-pedophiles. While still in school one of our friend committed suicide with them, because her boss molested her father. We collected information about him and posted on the Internet. He was put. There, in Manresa, I could not give you information about yourself. Otherwise, indirectly became aware of Julie, who at that time worked anonymously. I then Sylvia blushed slightly, she knew about you, well almost everything, even the names of girls with whom you are friends. Do you really explore other things and did not notice me in your computer. Sorry. And then you were invited to the firm Berthier. We are Julie just deal with them. Do you think that working on the project, but it is not. This project is for you invisible. They create a network that will identify the location of people opposed to authoritarian regimes and terrorist groups, those with whom they want to kill. We needed information about actual projects and customers. Julie managed to get them to work. And I, replacing it failed to find disk with needed files. Access to information out there in the building failed. I dismantled the drive carried him and gave Julie. They killed her and took everything. Unless you saw the photograph Julie, Sera and Duris, they filled in where everyone thought that their problem is solved. I have no doubt that finding your interest, this couple and their owners ... will try to clear - I interrupted, - and Berthier. He is dull, empty place - firmly said Sylvia. Then she looked at me. N believes that the need to destroy everything on the server from which you will deploy the network. But for this should find it. You'll be able to put me into a network company. I nodded. Tomorrow is the last day of work before Christmas. Will be all sorts of congratulations, security weakened. You open for me to access from my computer, I find the server, and you completely destroy it drives. Wait - I protested, - but how to do it. Sylvia smiled. We have a device. Take it with you. And suddenly her face quivered. This is dangerous. I waved my hand. Then we sat very close and discussed the details. Entered N, looked at us and quietly left the room.
conversation.
Sylvia went to the small sofa in the office of N. We sat down. The girl spoke first. "When we met at Manresa, I almost never lie to you" - she said. I really call Sylvia Dupree. I did not say that I have a sister - twin Julie and my father died of cancer when we were 9 years old. We were very close to Julie people. Even studied together, just not at the Sorbonne, and in EFREI - Ecole d'Ingenieurs des Technologies de l'Information et du Management. Already in the second year we were invited to work in the center of operations against the violence. I think not only because of our ability, but also because Julie and I have created a network that helps identify high-pedophiles. While still in school one of our friend committed suicide with them, because her boss molested her father. We collected information about him and posted on the Internet. He was put. There, in Manresa, I could not give you information about yourself. Otherwise, indirectly became aware of Julie, who at that time worked anonymously. I then Sylvia blushed slightly, she knew about you, well almost everything, even the names of girls with whom you are friends. Do you really explore other things and did not notice me in your computer. Sorry. And then you were invited to the firm Berthier. We are Julie just deal with them. Do you think that working on the project, but it is not. This project is for you invisible. They create a network that will identify the location of people opposed to authoritarian regimes and terrorist groups, those with whom they want to kill. We needed information about actual projects and customers. Julie managed to get them to work. And I, replacing it failed to find disk with needed files. Access to information out there in the building failed. I dismantled the drive carried him and gave Julie. They killed her and took everything. Unless you saw the photograph Julie, Sera and Duris, they filled in where everyone thought that their problem is solved. I have no doubt that finding your interest, this couple and their owners ... will try to clear - I interrupted, - and Berthier. He is dull, empty place - firmly said Sylvia. Then she looked at me. N believes that the need to destroy everything on the server from which you will deploy the network. But for this should find it. You'll be able to put me into a network company. I nodded. Tomorrow is the last day of work before Christmas. Will be all sorts of congratulations, security weakened. You open for me to access from my computer, I find the server, and you completely destroy it drives. Wait - I protested, - but how to do it. Sylvia smiled. We have a device. Take it with you. And suddenly her face quivered. This is dangerous. I waved my hand. Then we sat very close and discussed the details. Entered N, looked at us and quietly left the room.
Kirkland Signature European Cookies
dni.Povest_04
My adventures
The unexpectedness and absurdity of some of what is happening, I laughed. Then he began to listen and listen to this record. No doubt. Voice was not a robot. I thought. If this is really Sylvia, my actions may be dangerous. I decided to stop.
The next day, when I arrived at work, I was called Monsieur Seurat. We talked a little about the project, and then he asked if I knew Julie Dupree. Of course, my answer was negative. His eyes darkened, but he coped with it and let me go. On the way home, I discovered that I was being watched. Then I noticed a spy, was credited my father, who talked a lot about how they were following him the KGB before his departure from the USSR. I, without hesitation, turned and went straight towards the "tail". He was very tall, sharp-nosed with a small evil, vengeful eyes, and something reminiscent of the Pinocchio, whose could hewed Marquis Carabas. Behind him was a lane leading to the street with active movement. I stopped a taxi and 20 minutes later was at home. It was something to think about. It is clear that a firm in which I worked, is engaged in some dirty business, and that my activity is dangerous for Sylvia. I had an idea to analyze all I know about the project and about where I work, and others. Nobody in my group did not know about customers. Of course, one could try to get access to transactions and for him to go to the sources of funding. But that was a declaration of war. I absently turned on the computer, run the file with the voice of Sylvia and heard: "Manresa, cafe 19 hours. " She continued to control me. It was easy to figure out what I offer come tomorrow at a cafe in Paris with the same name as that is where we parted. Recall over the Internet name and location of the cafe was a matter of technique. The next day, after work I went there, ready to if necessary, get rid of the pursuer. When they reached the place, I began to cross the street. Suddenly stopped next to a jeep with heavily tinted glasses, I carefully and quickly put into it and drove. In the car, but I had a chauffeur and a young red-haired woman. The rear seats have been closed by a partition, but I felt that there is someone there. We drove in silence for a long time. Then the car stopped, and my companion motioned to come out. I was in a covered garage before the elevator door. We went into it, drove three floors and found in the hallway with many doors. I opened one of them, had a cozy, bright room in room. Towards rose from the table a tall man of middle age. He introduced himself. This was the N, director of the Center operations against violence. N apologized for the way whom I delivered to him. But, he said, events have become a real threat to his team and for me. However, - he said - he had everything else tell people who you know. N looked over my shoulder, I turned and saw Sylvia. The girl stood leaning against the wall. I looked into her eyes and realized that she was glad to meet you. N smiled and left.
My adventures
The unexpectedness and absurdity of some of what is happening, I laughed. Then he began to listen and listen to this record. No doubt. Voice was not a robot. I thought. If this is really Sylvia, my actions may be dangerous. I decided to stop.
The next day, when I arrived at work, I was called Monsieur Seurat. We talked a little about the project, and then he asked if I knew Julie Dupree. Of course, my answer was negative. His eyes darkened, but he coped with it and let me go. On the way home, I discovered that I was being watched. Then I noticed a spy, was credited my father, who talked a lot about how they were following him the KGB before his departure from the USSR. I, without hesitation, turned and went straight towards the "tail". He was very tall, sharp-nosed with a small evil, vengeful eyes, and something reminiscent of the Pinocchio, whose could hewed Marquis Carabas. Behind him was a lane leading to the street with active movement. I stopped a taxi and 20 minutes later was at home. It was something to think about. It is clear that a firm in which I worked, is engaged in some dirty business, and that my activity is dangerous for Sylvia. I had an idea to analyze all I know about the project and about where I work, and others. Nobody in my group did not know about customers. Of course, one could try to get access to transactions and for him to go to the sources of funding. But that was a declaration of war. I absently turned on the computer, run the file with the voice of Sylvia and heard: "Manresa, cafe 19 hours. " She continued to control me. It was easy to figure out what I offer come tomorrow at a cafe in Paris with the same name as that is where we parted. Recall over the Internet name and location of the cafe was a matter of technique. The next day, after work I went there, ready to if necessary, get rid of the pursuer. When they reached the place, I began to cross the street. Suddenly stopped next to a jeep with heavily tinted glasses, I carefully and quickly put into it and drove. In the car, but I had a chauffeur and a young red-haired woman. The rear seats have been closed by a partition, but I felt that there is someone there. We drove in silence for a long time. Then the car stopped, and my companion motioned to come out. I was in a covered garage before the elevator door. We went into it, drove three floors and found in the hallway with many doors. I opened one of them, had a cozy, bright room in room. Towards rose from the table a tall man of middle age. He introduced himself. This was the N, director of the Center operations against violence. N apologized for the way whom I delivered to him. But, he said, events have become a real threat to his team and for me. However, - he said - he had everything else tell people who you know. N looked over my shoulder, I turned and saw Sylvia. The girl stood leaning against the wall. I looked into her eyes and realized that she was glad to meet you. N smiled and left.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
How To Stretch Labia Minora
Happy Happy Happy dni.Povest_03
Julie and Sylvia
reaching to Toulouse, I immediately began to search the house where the family lived in Julie. It was a one-story stone mansion on a quiet street. It seemed that autumn was left here, not noticing the arrival of December. I decided not to immediately go on the commitment made at the police. On the opposite side of the street stood a woman with shopping bags. I approached her and asked about the family Dupree. Fortunately for me she was talkative. Indeed, in the house opposite lived a widow Isabelle Dupree and his two daughters: Julie and Sylvia. A year ago, Julie hit by a car and died. A month later, mother and daughter moved from Toulouse, where is unknown. I just had to return to Paris, which I did. At home, late at night I realized that I did not know whether Julie and Sylvia twins.
On week, I plunged into work. Etienne and Xavier worked at the firm less than a year and did not know Julie. On Saturday I went to the Sorbonne in the Department of Information Technology. But they did not know about such a student. Trail ends.
evenings I tried to find on the Internet at least some information about Dupree. And here was faced with surprise. My search was traced. I was special, I developed software that allows to detect misdirected agents. I went in their wake, trying to find a server that they send information. Late was a mutual hunting. Finally, I caught the same source. Server, of course, belonged network of any organization, but it was invisible. It was a beautiful job. Invisible network built on other principles than I do. Had to wait when This network will transfer data to an open source. And on December 12, I even remember the date it happened. The computer was able to locate and the name of the organization. It was not far from Paris and is called an independent center of operations against the violence. I tried to get to the information that from the network at this center. Here I was waiting for a defeat. All doors, figuratively speaking, shut, my computer was clean. The next day revealed missing file with the song Les Jours Heureux. Rather than on my desktop showed up an mp3 file with the same name but different contents. I ran it. A woman's voice said: "immediately stop searching. " It was the voice of Sylvia.
Julie and Sylvia
reaching to Toulouse, I immediately began to search the house where the family lived in Julie. It was a one-story stone mansion on a quiet street. It seemed that autumn was left here, not noticing the arrival of December. I decided not to immediately go on the commitment made at the police. On the opposite side of the street stood a woman with shopping bags. I approached her and asked about the family Dupree. Fortunately for me she was talkative. Indeed, in the house opposite lived a widow Isabelle Dupree and his two daughters: Julie and Sylvia. A year ago, Julie hit by a car and died. A month later, mother and daughter moved from Toulouse, where is unknown. I just had to return to Paris, which I did. At home, late at night I realized that I did not know whether Julie and Sylvia twins.
On week, I plunged into work. Etienne and Xavier worked at the firm less than a year and did not know Julie. On Saturday I went to the Sorbonne in the Department of Information Technology. But they did not know about such a student. Trail ends.
evenings I tried to find on the Internet at least some information about Dupree. And here was faced with surprise. My search was traced. I was special, I developed software that allows to detect misdirected agents. I went in their wake, trying to find a server that they send information. Late was a mutual hunting. Finally, I caught the same source. Server, of course, belonged network of any organization, but it was invisible. It was a beautiful job. Invisible network built on other principles than I do. Had to wait when This network will transfer data to an open source. And on December 12, I even remember the date it happened. The computer was able to locate and the name of the organization. It was not far from Paris and is called an independent center of operations against the violence. I tried to get to the information that from the network at this center. Here I was waiting for a defeat. All doors, figuratively speaking, shut, my computer was clean. The next day revealed missing file with the song Les Jours Heureux. Rather than on my desktop showed up an mp3 file with the same name but different contents. I ran it. A woman's voice said: "immediately stop searching. " It was the voice of Sylvia.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Team Ribbons For Volleyball
dni.Povest_02
strange week
first day at my new and first paragraph of this paper was not quite as I expected. The firm took a neat little mansion on a quiet street not far from Montmartre. I have spent in the office of the director Monsieur Berthier. In addition to his room to resemble the library is an assistant secretary of Monsieur and Madame Sera Deri. I noticed that the office had no technique. Berthier picked up a folder with my case. "Why are you interested in" invisible network "-, he said. I explained that I was interested in moving to the contrary. In social networks user is subjected to constant contemplation. Can analyze its IP address, content, contacts. A man talks about himself a lot more than he thinks. As a result, becomes a victim, potential or real. "Invisible network" allows users to have their own Internet space allocated at various, including his non-servers. It can only show him the right content to the anonymous searching and other operations. Berthier nodded and began to talk about the projects the firm. They are interested in my article that proposed a new deployment technology, "invisible networks." I am for the month must enter into a project will receive a salary, which will pay a small apartment, food and clothing. For two days they gave me to settle in Paris. Madame Deri led me into the hall and asked to wait while it will advance and the paper is required. In the lobby there were chairs, bookcases along the walls were hung with pictures. I was looking at them and suddenly saw the face of Sylvia. Under the photo was written "Julie Dupree." At this time, came Madame Deri. "What a good face for your employee - "I said. The Secretary looked attentively at me." This is our former employee, "she said." Unfortunately the girl died a year ago, hit by a car accident ... "- with these words she handed me the money and papers, wanted to find a home and quickly went away.
I quickly found small apartment almost in the attic near Montmartre and faster moved into it. In addition, I bought a WiFi-modem and began looking for information about Julie Dupree. C the moment when Madame Duris said of her death, my heart ached. I could not make a mistake. But photography was the face of Sylvia. Finally, the two news sites in the archives books found information about her death. Short notes about what a student at the Sorbonne to crush a truck turns around to drive off of the furniture shop. The driver could not see the victim, she died immediately. I put in a laptop bag and went to a furniture store. My questions there is not very much, but I managed to find a guy, a porter who witnessed the incident. Everything was as described in the article. While the guy was surprised that the ambulance arrived quickly people who introduced her staff and took a folder with papers, speaking at the same time, explain that all the police. I stayed one more day and I decided to find native girl. Thinking, I went to the police station, he found a man who had time to listen to my story. It was almost true except for one thing: I did not say what I'm looking Silvia, not Julie. The policeman was a good man, he found it and flipped through it. The girl's parents lived in Toulouse. The body was sent to them. By the way, the policeman said, left stick. Somehow it happened that nobody has picked up. It is nothing but a song. He does not know what to do with it and wants to give it to me. When I went to the boulevard, then took the laptop, stuck to his stick and began to listen. It was a song Aznavour "Happy days ". Sylvia, in our conversations never mentioned it.
next three days I have diligently served the state of affairs at the company. It seems that my suggestions have liked. Formed a company of young boys. In her except for me included two programmer Etienne and Xavier. We quickly determined the structure of the system software and was told Monsieur Sera. Then we were invited to Berthier and he told me that I accepted the post of team leader. On Friday night I went to Toulouse to seek parents Julie.
strange week
first day at my new and first paragraph of this paper was not quite as I expected. The firm took a neat little mansion on a quiet street not far from Montmartre. I have spent in the office of the director Monsieur Berthier. In addition to his room to resemble the library is an assistant secretary of Monsieur and Madame Sera Deri. I noticed that the office had no technique. Berthier picked up a folder with my case. "Why are you interested in" invisible network "-, he said. I explained that I was interested in moving to the contrary. In social networks user is subjected to constant contemplation. Can analyze its IP address, content, contacts. A man talks about himself a lot more than he thinks. As a result, becomes a victim, potential or real. "Invisible network" allows users to have their own Internet space allocated at various, including his non-servers. It can only show him the right content to the anonymous searching and other operations. Berthier nodded and began to talk about the projects the firm. They are interested in my article that proposed a new deployment technology, "invisible networks." I am for the month must enter into a project will receive a salary, which will pay a small apartment, food and clothing. For two days they gave me to settle in Paris. Madame Deri led me into the hall and asked to wait while it will advance and the paper is required. In the lobby there were chairs, bookcases along the walls were hung with pictures. I was looking at them and suddenly saw the face of Sylvia. Under the photo was written "Julie Dupree." At this time, came Madame Deri. "What a good face for your employee - "I said. The Secretary looked attentively at me." This is our former employee, "she said." Unfortunately the girl died a year ago, hit by a car accident ... "- with these words she handed me the money and papers, wanted to find a home and quickly went away.
I quickly found small apartment almost in the attic near Montmartre and faster moved into it. In addition, I bought a WiFi-modem and began looking for information about Julie Dupree. C the moment when Madame Duris said of her death, my heart ached. I could not make a mistake. But photography was the face of Sylvia. Finally, the two news sites in the archives books found information about her death. Short notes about what a student at the Sorbonne to crush a truck turns around to drive off of the furniture shop. The driver could not see the victim, she died immediately. I put in a laptop bag and went to a furniture store. My questions there is not very much, but I managed to find a guy, a porter who witnessed the incident. Everything was as described in the article. While the guy was surprised that the ambulance arrived quickly people who introduced her staff and took a folder with papers, speaking at the same time, explain that all the police. I stayed one more day and I decided to find native girl. Thinking, I went to the police station, he found a man who had time to listen to my story. It was almost true except for one thing: I did not say what I'm looking Silvia, not Julie. The policeman was a good man, he found it and flipped through it. The girl's parents lived in Toulouse. The body was sent to them. By the way, the policeman said, left stick. Somehow it happened that nobody has picked up. It is nothing but a song. He does not know what to do with it and wants to give it to me. When I went to the boulevard, then took the laptop, stuck to his stick and began to listen. It was a song Aznavour "Happy days ". Sylvia, in our conversations never mentioned it.
next three days I have diligently served the state of affairs at the company. It seems that my suggestions have liked. Formed a company of young boys. In her except for me included two programmer Etienne and Xavier. We quickly determined the structure of the system software and was told Monsieur Sera. Then we were invited to Berthier and he told me that I accepted the post of team leader. On Friday night I went to Toulouse to seek parents Julie.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Signs That The Scorpio Male Is Interested
Happy Happy dni.Povest_01
Entry
I arrived in Paris just after the Kreytonskogo University at the invitation of the French company that worked on the project creating so-called "invisible" corporate networks. France was a country where my parents met. They were both exiles with great difficulty leave the USSR. Memories of the former "homeland" had a heavy impact on my upbringing. Since its birth in the house heard a French and English, so that the Russian in a number of other I learned when I was a teenager and became interested linguistics. While his father, a prominent biologist, was invited to work in the Center for Biotechnology in the State of Omaha. Since our family was in the U.S.. Not to say that I am delighted to perceive some attributes of American life, especially reaching the stupidity patriotism, followed by hanging flags everywhere. That's when I met o.Richardom. He was a Jesuit priest, he taught at the University of Kreytonskom. This meeting was indeed Darom Bozhim.Pyatnadtsat years in the Order formed in him an exceptional focus on missionary deyatelnosti.Molodoy people from non-religious family with a keen sense of spiritual search, how can leave a fallow area Roman Catholic priest, and even Jesuit. I gave it to him, expecting a violent reaction. But in reply. Richard laughed and somehow unnoticed by talking about that and this and that, offered to go in the house of the Order meditation-based spiritual uprazhneneniyah St. Ignatius of Loyola. Thus began my churching. Parents are surprisingly calm attitude to the fact that their son chose Catholicism. True father once remarked that the glory of God is not Orthodox, obviously mixing Moskovka patriarchy and the KGB. He was never interested in churches, including the Eastern, but of their mother's experience and knew a lot about an incurable dishonesty chekizma.
Kreytonsky I went to university on faculty Information Technology and plunged into student life, successfully combining their studies, research, leprosy, and flirtation with the girls, who were engaged in a musical and theatrical offices. Robert O. unobtrusively supported me, as he himself said, kosterchik faith. In my second year I went on a pilgrimage to places of spiritual revelations St. Ignatius in Montserrat, Manresa, and Paris. Armed with instructions, designed as an electronic guide, I moved from the Benedictine monastery in Montserrat in Manresa on the river bank Kordener.Provedya night in prayer and performing all of the way, I stopped to pozavtrakat.V this time it began to rain. I quickly opened the tent, baby, got a kerosene stove and began to boil water for coffee. Suddenly, from outside the tent something rustled and Zipper front of me was razdvigatsya.Peredo emerged female face, half-wet matted brown hair. "Suppose," asked, girl - "and then I just get wet." She gave a radical Parisian French. I nodded. After that, instead of the girls appeared backpack, followed by a slender figure in a bikini. I lowered my eyes and heard the pent-up laughter. Five minutes later, my guest was sitting next to jeans and a navy-blue jersey. I poured her coffee. We met. Her name was Sylvia, her father was French and her mother English. She studied at the Sorbonne at the same department as me. At Sylvia's was light hand, it quickly overcame my shyness and the further part of the way to town we spent together telling each other about their interests and concerns. In one cafe, where I led a girl, she went to call and came back focused and alienated. She had to quickly leave. I was discouraged by such a sudden changing attitudes and circumstances. Sylvia firmly rejected my proposal to write. "If God wants us to see, then so be it" - with these words she disappeared among the people passing by. Two years have passed. Sometimes I thought of Sylvia, her brown eyes, smile, hidden vulnerability and importance. And I became sad. On the first day on the road from the airport to the hotel I thought it might be, is very close to me. However, soon completely different thoughts began to turn in my head: the first day of the firm, that is necessary to remove housing. And of course that I was back in town, was born and what should be call to parents.
Entry
I arrived in Paris just after the Kreytonskogo University at the invitation of the French company that worked on the project creating so-called "invisible" corporate networks. France was a country where my parents met. They were both exiles with great difficulty leave the USSR. Memories of the former "homeland" had a heavy impact on my upbringing. Since its birth in the house heard a French and English, so that the Russian in a number of other I learned when I was a teenager and became interested linguistics. While his father, a prominent biologist, was invited to work in the Center for Biotechnology in the State of Omaha. Since our family was in the U.S.. Not to say that I am delighted to perceive some attributes of American life, especially reaching the stupidity patriotism, followed by hanging flags everywhere. That's when I met o.Richardom. He was a Jesuit priest, he taught at the University of Kreytonskom. This meeting was indeed Darom Bozhim.Pyatnadtsat years in the Order formed in him an exceptional focus on missionary deyatelnosti.Molodoy people from non-religious family with a keen sense of spiritual search, how can leave a fallow area Roman Catholic priest, and even Jesuit. I gave it to him, expecting a violent reaction. But in reply. Richard laughed and somehow unnoticed by talking about that and this and that, offered to go in the house of the Order meditation-based spiritual uprazhneneniyah St. Ignatius of Loyola. Thus began my churching. Parents are surprisingly calm attitude to the fact that their son chose Catholicism. True father once remarked that the glory of God is not Orthodox, obviously mixing Moskovka patriarchy and the KGB. He was never interested in churches, including the Eastern, but of their mother's experience and knew a lot about an incurable dishonesty chekizma.
Kreytonsky I went to university on faculty Information Technology and plunged into student life, successfully combining their studies, research, leprosy, and flirtation with the girls, who were engaged in a musical and theatrical offices. Robert O. unobtrusively supported me, as he himself said, kosterchik faith. In my second year I went on a pilgrimage to places of spiritual revelations St. Ignatius in Montserrat, Manresa, and Paris. Armed with instructions, designed as an electronic guide, I moved from the Benedictine monastery in Montserrat in Manresa on the river bank Kordener.Provedya night in prayer and performing all of the way, I stopped to pozavtrakat.V this time it began to rain. I quickly opened the tent, baby, got a kerosene stove and began to boil water for coffee. Suddenly, from outside the tent something rustled and Zipper front of me was razdvigatsya.Peredo emerged female face, half-wet matted brown hair. "Suppose," asked, girl - "and then I just get wet." She gave a radical Parisian French. I nodded. After that, instead of the girls appeared backpack, followed by a slender figure in a bikini. I lowered my eyes and heard the pent-up laughter. Five minutes later, my guest was sitting next to jeans and a navy-blue jersey. I poured her coffee. We met. Her name was Sylvia, her father was French and her mother English. She studied at the Sorbonne at the same department as me. At Sylvia's was light hand, it quickly overcame my shyness and the further part of the way to town we spent together telling each other about their interests and concerns. In one cafe, where I led a girl, she went to call and came back focused and alienated. She had to quickly leave. I was discouraged by such a sudden changing attitudes and circumstances. Sylvia firmly rejected my proposal to write. "If God wants us to see, then so be it" - with these words she disappeared among the people passing by. Two years have passed. Sometimes I thought of Sylvia, her brown eyes, smile, hidden vulnerability and importance. And I became sad. On the first day on the road from the airport to the hotel I thought it might be, is very close to me. However, soon completely different thoughts began to turn in my head: the first day of the firm, that is necessary to remove housing. And of course that I was back in town, was born and what should be call to parents.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Were To Make Coll Lacrosse Pinnies
Violently Happy ... [27/11/2010]
pastry cream, chocolate shavings and whipped cream bordeaux, for the first time in my hands, oh, what a gesture of love!
gifts, flakes, toast and wishes ... 'll never forget this day?
I always say to myself that I should have more patience. every little thing. not tolerate slowness. slow reflexes, indecision. I hate to wait for others to take decisions which come from then mine. I hate to be bound by and I'm afraid, I'm afraid the time: HE is my only enemy, the only thing that scares me and scares me. I realized that you can fight only one way. acting immediately, without leaving space. because time wears down, destroying the time, the time can choose whether to advance or slow forward speed. for this I am a person immediately, I'm afraid to wait. wait for anything. when the words "I love you" came out for the first time since starting my mouth I knew already that I'd heard the other part at that time but not much later. but I again I felt it necessary to communicate before it was too late. Why wait? out of fear? While there is the fear of not feeling safe to try, but I feel the sudden feeling that might be slightly too late to tell someone that him / her you love. Time is not on our side. why let that stop us from communicating?
but maybe I should ... I should have ... that bit of patience that everyone always spoke to me. but to grit their teeth and fists in front of the slenzio and doubts and then felt in the middle of the night and those two fateful words to say "all suddenly. " yes. all of a sudden, it so often that things happen and it's delicious sweet taste they can hear only the simple rhythmic breathing of the other person. I have been patient often by asking questions. I gritted my teeth and in the darkness I heard. were those two words, spoken ... said to me.
sometimes it hurts to live with too much intensity for a moment. because no time is eternal and the return to reality is destructive. I do not want to return. his eyes were so in love ... I do not care more than anything else, even when the ice around me.
believe that dry tears on the face of a person is the deepest act of love that we can do ... like Veronica, who wiped away the tears of Christ. had a love pure, with whom no one would be able to get in touch.
are Violently Happy.
With Love.
pastry cream, chocolate shavings and whipped cream bordeaux, for the first time in my hands, oh, what a gesture of love!
gifts, flakes, toast and wishes ... 'll never forget this day?
I always say to myself that I should have more patience. every little thing. not tolerate slowness. slow reflexes, indecision. I hate to wait for others to take decisions which come from then mine. I hate to be bound by and I'm afraid, I'm afraid the time: HE is my only enemy, the only thing that scares me and scares me. I realized that you can fight only one way. acting immediately, without leaving space. because time wears down, destroying the time, the time can choose whether to advance or slow forward speed. for this I am a person immediately, I'm afraid to wait. wait for anything. when the words "I love you" came out for the first time since starting my mouth I knew already that I'd heard the other part at that time but not much later. but I again I felt it necessary to communicate before it was too late. Why wait? out of fear? While there is the fear of not feeling safe to try, but I feel the sudden feeling that might be slightly too late to tell someone that him / her you love. Time is not on our side. why let that stop us from communicating?
but maybe I should ... I should have ... that bit of patience that everyone always spoke to me. but to grit their teeth and fists in front of the slenzio and doubts and then felt in the middle of the night and those two fateful words to say "all suddenly. " yes. all of a sudden, it so often that things happen and it's delicious sweet taste they can hear only the simple rhythmic breathing of the other person. I have been patient often by asking questions. I gritted my teeth and in the darkness I heard. were those two words, spoken ... said to me.
sometimes it hurts to live with too much intensity for a moment. because no time is eternal and the return to reality is destructive. I do not want to return. his eyes were so in love ... I do not care more than anything else, even when the ice around me.
believe that dry tears on the face of a person is the deepest act of love that we can do ... like Veronica, who wiped away the tears of Christ. had a love pure, with whom no one would be able to get in touch.
are Violently Happy.
With Love.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Can A Prolapsed Uterus Affect The Intestines
dni.Povest_00
Epigraph
We must strictly follow a consistent train of thought, and if a beginning, middle and end of all good, is directed to only one good - a sign of good angel. But if a number of ideas, inspired by an angel, what a wicked thing visible or distracting, or less good than that which the soul first to commit, or if anything weakens the soul, or makes her anxious and depressed, taking away her peace, silence and calm, which she previously had, it is a clear sign of origin of these thoughts from an evil spirit, enemy of our prosperity and eternal salvation.
I. Loyola "Spiritual Exercises", 333
Epigraph
We must strictly follow a consistent train of thought, and if a beginning, middle and end of all good, is directed to only one good - a sign of good angel. But if a number of ideas, inspired by an angel, what a wicked thing visible or distracting, or less good than that which the soul first to commit, or if anything weakens the soul, or makes her anxious and depressed, taking away her peace, silence and calm, which she previously had, it is a clear sign of origin of these thoughts from an evil spirit, enemy of our prosperity and eternal salvation.
I. Loyola "Spiritual Exercises", 333
Monday, November 15, 2010
What Is Half Head Of Highlights
destroyed.
IMMACULATE MADE MY DREAM OF SKIN AND BREATH
I've been waiting
SIGNED WITH A HOMEMADE TATTOO, "Happy Birthday"
E 'was built for you.
(can not wait to fall upon the SCAR
(I can not believe you're tearing the heart)
AH, it will take 'a short time, will seem' A CRIME BE DESTROYED.
Let us be blind to the HOPE AND FEAR
HEY BOY TRIES TO BE MORE '
WILD WIND THAT BLOWS UP IN ME make me cry
OF THOSE WHO DO YOU NEED?
WHO AMI?
when destroyed
WORDS Sounds like a deja-vu ',
SWEAR LIKE A RADIO STATION THAT HAS ALREADY' HEARD BEFORE, AND THE THRILL
'SOMETHING REAL, AS THE MAGIC OF YOUR FINGERS DO NOT *
can I keep from falling on SCARS
(I can not believe you're tearing the heart)
LOST IN HEAVEN AGAINST SNOW
TRYING TO AGREE TO BE DESTROYED
HEY BABY Try to be more '
WILD WIND THAT BLOWS UP IN ME make me cry
[Duran Duran 1993]
IMMACULATE MADE MY DREAM OF SKIN AND BREATH
I've been waiting
SIGNED WITH A HOMEMADE TATTOO, "Happy Birthday"
E 'was built for you.
(can not wait to fall upon the SCAR
(I can not believe you're tearing the heart)
AH, it will take 'a short time, will seem' A CRIME BE DESTROYED.
Let us be blind to the HOPE AND FEAR
HEY BOY TRIES TO BE MORE '
WILD WIND THAT BLOWS UP IN ME make me cry
OF THOSE WHO DO YOU NEED?
WHO AMI?
when destroyed
WORDS Sounds like a deja-vu ',
SWEAR LIKE A RADIO STATION THAT HAS ALREADY' HEARD BEFORE, AND THE THRILL
'SOMETHING REAL, AS THE MAGIC OF YOUR FINGERS DO NOT *
can I keep from falling on SCARS
(I can not believe you're tearing the heart)
LOST IN HEAVEN AGAINST SNOW
TRYING TO AGREE TO BE DESTROYED
HEY BABY Try to be more '
WILD WIND THAT BLOWS UP IN ME make me cry
[Duran Duran 1993]
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Love And Basketball Prom Song
About Moscow (small essay)
recently caught me four stitches Okudzhava:
Arbat no more: melted like svechenka,
all emerged, though Rechenka, there was only Sretenka.
Oh Sretenka, Sretenka, at least you do not hurry:
it is necessary that at least something is left for the soul!
1989
for the soul ... Twenty years ago in Moscow were streets on which there was no Soviet buildings nor novodela.Idya on the Arbat or Kachalova could stop and think of this capital, as the nearest town. All over. On Sunday, I moved from Perov, where I live, to Tsentru.Snachala Forest Park in Siberia. Its clean guest workers. The roads are clean, hand proteins and tits, families with children. On the other side Terletsky ponds. Snachalya it was removed, cleaned, put the lovely benches. Then came sheds debris and a statue of a peasant in his boots with a bag in the spirit of Tsereteli (a kind of Russian-bureaucratic taste). Then I sat on the tram, drove to the subway. Entered the car. People quite a lot. People dressed darkly, smiles on their faces there. Feels hidden aggression. All stations in this tree decorated in a totalitarian style. Names One to one: "The highway enthusiasts," Aviamotornaya "," Lenin Square "," Marxist. " Transplant reached the Kuznetsk bridge went out. Throughout the dirt, smells of urine. The space around branded the hatred that has always emanated from "the inhabitants of the Lubyanka," or as the recently discovered "new nobility." Next came on Butcher Street. Dirt is not diminished. And while walking-understood. Moscow has become bureaucratic city. It will never be real flowers. In it a powerful care will grow the Nazi gang in her boys, girls and old men who want to tell their truth, be accused of extremism. The city soon will not even corner to relax. With Izmailovo forest will also, as with Khimki. Metropolitan area in which even love is impregnated kazenschinoy, dirt, tobacco, vodka, beer and nationalism.
recently caught me four stitches Okudzhava:
Arbat no more: melted like svechenka,
all emerged, though Rechenka, there was only Sretenka.
Oh Sretenka, Sretenka, at least you do not hurry:
it is necessary that at least something is left for the soul!
1989
for the soul ... Twenty years ago in Moscow were streets on which there was no Soviet buildings nor novodela.Idya on the Arbat or Kachalova could stop and think of this capital, as the nearest town. All over. On Sunday, I moved from Perov, where I live, to Tsentru.Snachala Forest Park in Siberia. Its clean guest workers. The roads are clean, hand proteins and tits, families with children. On the other side Terletsky ponds. Snachalya it was removed, cleaned, put the lovely benches. Then came sheds debris and a statue of a peasant in his boots with a bag in the spirit of Tsereteli (a kind of Russian-bureaucratic taste). Then I sat on the tram, drove to the subway. Entered the car. People quite a lot. People dressed darkly, smiles on their faces there. Feels hidden aggression. All stations in this tree decorated in a totalitarian style. Names One to one: "The highway enthusiasts," Aviamotornaya "," Lenin Square "," Marxist. " Transplant reached the Kuznetsk bridge went out. Throughout the dirt, smells of urine. The space around branded the hatred that has always emanated from "the inhabitants of the Lubyanka," or as the recently discovered "new nobility." Next came on Butcher Street. Dirt is not diminished. And while walking-understood. Moscow has become bureaucratic city. It will never be real flowers. In it a powerful care will grow the Nazi gang in her boys, girls and old men who want to tell their truth, be accused of extremism. The city soon will not even corner to relax. With Izmailovo forest will also, as with Khimki. Metropolitan area in which even love is impregnated kazenschinoy, dirt, tobacco, vodka, beer and nationalism.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
What Cause Continious Heatburn
Prix Goncourt
1904 - Leon FRAPER , «Nursery»
1905 - Claude Farrer , «Color civilization»
1906 - Jean and Jerome Tarot , «Dingli, an outstanding writer»
1907 - Emil Mozelli , «Distaff ivory»
1908 - Francis Miomandr , «Written on Water
1909 - Marius and Arye Leblond , «France»
1910 - Louis Perga , «From the fox to Margo»
1911 - Alphonse de Chateaubriand , «Monsieur de Lurdin"
1912 - Andre Sauvignon , «Girls Rain»
1913 - Mark Elder , «The people of the sea»
1914 - Prize was not awarded
1915 - Rene Benjamin , «Gaspar»
1916 - Henri Barbusse , «Fire»
1917 - Henri Malherbe , «The flame in my hand»
1918 & mdash ; Georges Duhamel , «Civilization
1919 - Marcel Proust , « Under the canopy of young girls in flower »
1920 - Ernest Peroshon , «Nene»
1921 - Rene Maran , «Batuala»
1922 - Henri Beraud , «Lunar poison»
1923 - Lucien Fabre , «Rabvel, pain or burning»
1924 - Thierry Sandre , « , Honeysuckle, purgatory, chapter XIII »
1925 - Maurice Genevois ,« Rabaul »
1926 - Henri Deberle ,« Heel Phaedra »
1927 - Maurice Bedel "Jerome 60 ° north Latitude »
1928 - Maurice Constantin Weyer ,« Man on his past »
1929 - Marseille Arlan ,« Order »
1930 - Henry Fauconnier , «Malaysia»
1931 - Jean Fayard , «Sick of love»
1932 - Ki Mazelin , «Wolves»
1933 - Andre , «The destiny of man"
1934 - Roger Vercel , «Captain Conan»
1935 - Joseph Peyre , «Blood and Light»
1936 - Maksens van de Meersh , «God's Thumbprint"
1937 - Charles Plisne , «Fake passport»
1938 - Henri Troyat , the novel "Spider»
1939 - Philip Eria , « ; Spoiled Children "
1940 - Francis Ambrier , «Great vacation»
1941 - Henri Pourrat , «The March wind»
1942 - Mark Berrod , « ; like children "
1943 - Marius Gro , «Transition Rights»
1944 - Elsa Triolet , the collection "For damage cloth, a fine 200 francs»
1945 - Jean-Louis Bory , «My German village in times »
1946 - Jean-Jacques Gauthier ,« The Story of Adventure »
1947 - Jean Louis Kyurtis ,« Night of the forest »
1948 - Maurice Druon , «Famous Family»
1949 - Robert Merle , the novel "The weekend at the beach»
1950 - Paul Coghlan , «Wild Game"
1951 - Julien Graco , «Sirte Coast" (from the award declined)
1952 - Beatrice Beck , «Leon Morin, Priest»
1953 - Pierre Gaskarov , «Time of the Dead»
1954 - Simone de Beauvoir , «Mandarin»
1955 - Roger Ikor , «Mixed waters»
1956 & mdash ; Romain Gary , «Roots Sky »
1957 - Roger Vaillant ,« Act »
1958 - Francis Walder ,« Saint-Germain, or Negotiant »
1959 - Andre Schwarz-Bart «Last of the righteous »
1960 - Uinta gory ,« God was born in exile »
1961 - Jean Co. ,« God's madmen »
1962 - Anna Langfyus , «Sandy luggage »
1963 - Arman Lana ,« When the sea recedes »
1964 - Georges Konshon ,« Wild State »
1965 - Jacques Borel , «Adoration"
1966 - Edmond Charles-Roux , «Forget Palermo»
1967 - Andre de Pieyra Mandiart , «Void»
1968 - Bernard Clavel , «Winter Fruit
1969 - Felicien Marceau , «Creasy»
1970 - Michel Tournier , «Erlkönig»
1971 - Jacques Laurent , « Nonsense »
1972 - Jean Quarry , «Hawk from Maya»
1973 - Jacques Shesse , «Ogre»
1974 - Pascal Lance , «Lacemaker»
1975 - Emile Ajar (Romain Gary), "All life ahead »
1976 - Patrick Grenville ,« Burning »
1977 - Didier Descoings ,« John Hell »
1978 - Patrick Modiano , «dark outside shops »
1979 - Antonin Maya ,« Pelagie-Truck »
1980 - Yves Navarre ,« Zoo »
1981 - Lucien BODAR , "Anna Maria»
1982 - Dominique Fernandez , «On the palm of an angel»
1983 - Frederick Tristan , «Lost Souls»
1984 - Marguerite Duras , «The Lover" ;
1985 - Jan Keffelek , «Barbarian Wedding»
1986 - Michelle Ghost , «Night servant»
1987 - Tahar Ben Dzhellun , "Holy Night"
1988 - Eric Orsenna , «Colonial Exhibition»
1989 - Jean Vautrin , «A big step toward good God»
1990 - Jean Rouault , «Fields Fame »
1991 - Pierre Kombesko ,« Daughters of Calvary »
1992 - Patrick Shamuazo ,« Texaco »
1993 - Amin Maalouf , "Rock Taniosa"
1994 - Didier Van Koveler , «The Path to an end»
1995 - Andrew Makin , «French testament»
1996 - Pascal Rose , «Hunter Zero »
1997 - Patrick Rambaud ,« Battle »
1998 - Paul Constant ,« revelation upon revelation »
1999 - Jean Eshnoz "I'm leaving"
2000 - Jean-Jacques Shul , «Ingrid Kaven»
2001 - Jean-Christophe Rufen , «Red Brazil»
2002 - Pascal Kinyara , «Wandering Shadows
2003 — Жан-Пьер Аммет , «Любовница Брехта»
2004 — Лоран Годе , «Солнце Скорта»
2005 — Франсуа Вейерган , «Три дня у моей Mother »
2006 - Jonathan Littel ,« well-intentioned »
2007 - Gilles Leroy ,« Alabama Song »
2008 - Atiq Rahimi , "Sing Sabur. Stone patience »
2009 - Marie Ndiaye ,« Three strong women »
2010 - Michel Houellebecq ,« Map and the Territory »
Prix Goncourt ( francs. Prix Goncourt ) - the most prestigious literary prize France for best novel, is named in honor of the brothers Goncourt . Awarded on the basis of voting by members of Goncourt Academy at a special dinner in Paris restaurant "Droit» ( Drouant ). Awarded annually since 1903 . Premium amount is symbolic (currently it is ten euros ), however, tend to award substantially increases sales of the winning novel and the author puts it into the front ranks of French literature.
The Academy Goncourt includes ten most famous writers of France, who receive a nominal fee - 60 francs a year. Each member of the Academy has only one vote and may give him only one book. President of the Academy has two votes.
By statute Goncourt Prize, she may be awarded author only once in a lifetime. The only exception - the writer Romain Gary . The first time he won in 1956 , but 19 years later, the newly awarded Prize named Emile Adjara. Literary hoax Gary was disclosed after award Adjara.
Winners:
1904 - Leon FRAPER , «Nursery»
1905 - Claude Farrer , «Color civilization»
1906 - Jean and Jerome Tarot , «Dingli, an outstanding writer»
1907 - Emil Mozelli , «Distaff ivory»
1908 - Francis Miomandr , «Written on Water
1909 - Marius and Arye Leblond , «France»
1910 - Louis Perga , «From the fox to Margo»
1911 - Alphonse de Chateaubriand , «Monsieur de Lurdin"
1912 - Andre Sauvignon , «Girls Rain»
1913 - Mark Elder , «The people of the sea»
1914 - Prize was not awarded
1915 - Rene Benjamin , «Gaspar»
1916 - Henri Barbusse , «Fire»
1917 - Henri Malherbe , «The flame in my hand»
1918 & mdash ; Georges Duhamel , «Civilization
1919 - Marcel Proust , « Under the canopy of young girls in flower »
1920 - Ernest Peroshon , «Nene»
1921 - Rene Maran , «Batuala»
1922 - Henri Beraud , «Lunar poison»
1923 - Lucien Fabre , «Rabvel, pain or burning»
1924 - Thierry Sandre , « , Honeysuckle, purgatory, chapter XIII »
1925 - Maurice Genevois ,« Rabaul »
1926 - Henri Deberle ,« Heel Phaedra »
1927 - Maurice Bedel "Jerome 60 ° north Latitude »
1928 - Maurice Constantin Weyer ,« Man on his past »
1929 - Marseille Arlan ,« Order »
1930 - Henry Fauconnier , «Malaysia»
1931 - Jean Fayard , «Sick of love»
1932 - Ki Mazelin , «Wolves»
1933 - Andre , «The destiny of man"
1934 - Roger Vercel , «Captain Conan»
1935 - Joseph Peyre , «Blood and Light»
1936 - Maksens van de Meersh , «God's Thumbprint"
1937 - Charles Plisne , «Fake passport»
1938 - Henri Troyat , the novel "Spider»
1939 - Philip Eria , « ; Spoiled Children "
1940 - Francis Ambrier , «Great vacation»
1941 - Henri Pourrat , «The March wind»
1942 - Mark Berrod , « ; like children "
1943 - Marius Gro , «Transition Rights»
1944 - Elsa Triolet , the collection "For damage cloth, a fine 200 francs»
1945 - Jean-Louis Bory , «My German village in times »
1946 - Jean-Jacques Gauthier ,« The Story of Adventure »
1947 - Jean Louis Kyurtis ,« Night of the forest »
1948 - Maurice Druon , «Famous Family»
1949 - Robert Merle , the novel "The weekend at the beach»
1950 - Paul Coghlan , «Wild Game"
1951 - Julien Graco , «Sirte Coast" (from the award declined)
1952 - Beatrice Beck , «Leon Morin, Priest»
1953 - Pierre Gaskarov , «Time of the Dead»
1954 - Simone de Beauvoir , «Mandarin»
1955 - Roger Ikor , «Mixed waters»
1956 & mdash ; Romain Gary , «Roots Sky »
1957 - Roger Vaillant ,« Act »
1958 - Francis Walder ,« Saint-Germain, or Negotiant »
1959 - Andre Schwarz-Bart «Last of the righteous »
1960 - Uinta gory ,« God was born in exile »
1961 - Jean Co. ,« God's madmen »
1962 - Anna Langfyus , «Sandy luggage »
1963 - Arman Lana ,« When the sea recedes »
1964 - Georges Konshon ,« Wild State »
1965 - Jacques Borel , «Adoration"
1966 - Edmond Charles-Roux , «Forget Palermo»
1967 - Andre de Pieyra Mandiart , «Void»
1968 - Bernard Clavel , «Winter Fruit
1969 - Felicien Marceau , «Creasy»
1970 - Michel Tournier , «Erlkönig»
1971 - Jacques Laurent , « Nonsense »
1972 - Jean Quarry , «Hawk from Maya»
1973 - Jacques Shesse , «Ogre»
1974 - Pascal Lance , «Lacemaker»
1975 - Emile Ajar (Romain Gary), "All life ahead »
1976 - Patrick Grenville ,« Burning »
1977 - Didier Descoings ,« John Hell »
1978 - Patrick Modiano , «dark outside shops »
1979 - Antonin Maya ,« Pelagie-Truck »
1980 - Yves Navarre ,« Zoo »
1981 - Lucien BODAR , "Anna Maria»
1982 - Dominique Fernandez , «On the palm of an angel»
1983 - Frederick Tristan , «Lost Souls»
1984 - Marguerite Duras , «The Lover" ;
1985 - Jan Keffelek , «Barbarian Wedding»
1986 - Michelle Ghost , «Night servant»
1987 - Tahar Ben Dzhellun , "Holy Night"
1988 - Eric Orsenna , «Colonial Exhibition»
1989 - Jean Vautrin , «A big step toward good God»
1990 - Jean Rouault , «Fields Fame »
1991 - Pierre Kombesko ,« Daughters of Calvary »
1992 - Patrick Shamuazo ,« Texaco »
1993 - Amin Maalouf , "Rock Taniosa"
1994 - Didier Van Koveler , «The Path to an end»
1995 - Andrew Makin , «French testament»
1996 - Pascal Rose , «Hunter Zero »
1997 - Patrick Rambaud ,« Battle »
1998 - Paul Constant ,« revelation upon revelation »
1999 - Jean Eshnoz "I'm leaving"
2000 - Jean-Jacques Shul , «Ingrid Kaven»
2001 - Jean-Christophe Rufen , «Red Brazil»
2002 - Pascal Kinyara , «Wandering Shadows
2003 — Жан-Пьер Аммет , «Любовница Брехта»
2004 — Лоран Годе , «Солнце Скорта»
2005 — Франсуа Вейерган , «Три дня у моей Mother »
2006 - Jonathan Littel ,« well-intentioned »
2007 - Gilles Leroy ,« Alabama Song »
2008 - Atiq Rahimi , "Sing Sabur. Stone patience »
2009 - Marie Ndiaye ,« Three strong women »
2010 - Michel Houellebecq ,« Map and the Territory »
Monday, November 8, 2010
Soap Notes Examples Occupational Therapy
Singer
NM
She gives us a voice, holding out his hands.
She sings about the happiness and separation.
God, as its natural look.
His sensibility rejects any discord.
Hall passed even her breathing.
How well this understanding.
in the black dress she moves between sounds.
Musicians do not move approaching separation.
woman presenting with pain and healing.
how precious her singing.
NM
She gives us a voice, holding out his hands.
She sings about the happiness and separation.
God, as its natural look.
His sensibility rejects any discord.
Hall passed even her breathing.
How well this understanding.
in the black dress she moves between sounds.
Musicians do not move approaching separation.
woman presenting with pain and healing.
how precious her singing.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
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Alone by Maya Angelou
Alone by Maya Angelou
Lying, thinking,
Last night
How do I find my soul
house where there is water and bread
not become a stone.
I came to one
And it seems that I'm right.
No,
No
can not do it alone.
No,
No
can not do it alone.
A few millionaires.
There is money that can not be used.
Their wives running around in circles, yelling, like a siren.
Their children sing the blues.
They've got expensive doctors,
To cure their hearts of stone.
But no,
No, no
not be able to do it alone.
No,
No
can not do it alone.
Now, if you listen carefully
I say that I know
storm clouds are gathering.
Wind is preparing to strike
race of people are suffering.
And I hear a groan,
Because nobody,
No
not be able to do it alone.
No,
No
can not do it alone.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
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Poetry and Fiction in Italy
http://www.zeroland.co.nz/literature_italy.html
| A B C E G I L Poetry S T V W |
http://www.zeroland.co.nz/literature_italy.html
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