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"When you're in the bath" (literary Impromptus)



It - When you're in the bath
By The Impromptus, Tuesday, February 19, 2008 at 11:26:: When you're in the bath:: # 3383:: rss



A c'qu'on is when you're in the bath.

PSHHHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
(valve opening)

VROULOU VROULOU VROLO VROLO
mixer. Warm to hot to very hot. I take my bath like I was in the hammam: very suffocating heat of Senegal. PRIL PRIL PRIL


Reduced water flow

Splotch!
Closure tap

ZIP
zip slides up to the kidneys
Frish Frish Frish
vzitt
crumpled fabrics falling at the foot

Gnik Gnik
Barefoot on the floor. Why have there always this unpleasant sensation of the toes that adhere to the ice?

- "Brrrrr ..." (I have a little cold)

- "LAaaaa OUCH! Ch'est Chôooooo ..!!!" WINK

Wak WAK
Noise rubbed enamel: attempting to install in the bathtub of scalding water

VOUTCH
Installation

heroic - "oufffffffffchooooo"
almost silent shock absorption heat. I always say that one of these 4, I'll die a Hyper cooking.

Plic plic plic fliketi fliketi
Small toes play hide and seek

pLuc pLuc pLuc fluketu fluketu
Fingers of hands "plicottent" and are "ROUND OF WATER").

plisss
Closing eyes that do not even see the candles lit

- "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm ......."

Let stand.

TIMEOUT 1 hour

I meditate ...
I dream ....
I'm a fish swimming swimming swimming ...
I get bird flying fly flies through the cloud of hot steam.
I go to the Hammam Mosque Paris.
I sail in a blue bubble. I get the blue Neptune ...
I pick up the moon and landed in Syracuse. The gardens of Babylon hang terraced rooftops in front of me ...
call me their wonderful scents ....

PAN BADABZIiiinG 'CHTRAK PLATSXXX! Thrashing
Hanging Gardens of Babylon

Plastsss Platsss
Open any large eyes glued fog fragrant essential oils

Tic Tic
the flashing eyes and ears strained

precipitated out of the tub delicious, sweet dreams broken.

I do not see Syracuse or the gardens of Babylon, the hooves of Bath has sailed. And it's happy again, I avoided the evil role of Noah in a poor series télévirtuelle - the Flood in the bathroom (season unpublished).

The book which she read




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1. On Tuesday, February 19, 2008 at 11:33 by Weaver

is very nice!
your text, interspersed with all your onomatopoeia, gave me the impression that you follow your every move
I became almost a bit intrusive in your bathtub until ... your disappointment, which made me laugh: o)))
still hope that this does not happen really thee: (

2. On Tuesday, February 19, 2008 at 11:36 by basdecasse

"CLAP CLAP CLAP" well found :-))

3. On Tuesday, February 19, 2008 at 13:33 by joy

Skreeeeeeee, spooooooousche, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

The bath as if you were there!

Tower tap feat, well done her!

4. On Tuesday, February 19, 2008 at 16:33 by Mifa

is a boulevard, a story without words, a course of sound effects, the window of a voyeur (entendeur too) short, it's great.


5. On Tuesday, February 19, 2008 at 17:05 by clau

oh my! ... How hot bath!
especially love: OUCH! LAaaaa! ch'est chôooooo! :-)))))

6. On Tuesday, February 19, 2008 at 17:49 by brigetoun

what could be the sound of the water cools?

7. On Tuesday, February 19, 2008 at 18:46 by joy

for brigetoun:

www.nonstick.com / sounds / D ...

8. On Tuesday, February 19, 2008 at 21:14, by the land of stars CLAP CLAP CLAP


CLAP: o)))

9. Tuesday, February 19 2008 at 23:24 by Les Impromptus

Excellent!

10. On Wednesday, February 20, 2008 at 18:33 by Martine27

Bravo, they had to find the sounds!

11. On Wednesday, February 20, 2008 at 22:10, by Uncle Dan

From good comic!

12. On Saturday, February 23, 2008 at 13:30 by

it @ all of you .. I go almost a week, passing under the duvet to get rid of a nasty virus that grabbed me .. and I discover your com 'adorable, and .. 'Tend to me this record one of those peaches! Do not be angry at my silence and the fact that, dare I admit, I did not yet read your texts. I'll catch it all and I enjoy my turn! Good
sunny and wonderful weekend for you all and thank you again for your compliments. Specially

to brigetoun: fiiiiisssssssssssssssssssss (idea Foley for water that cools burning "s'évaporisant "...)




13. On Saturday, February 23, 2008 at 15:05 by joy

happy to know that you are still among the living it! Good and speedy recovery
total c't 'nasty flu!

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Toxic (Yael Naim recovery)

(specially to DJE)

... And I shall end here with this wonderful voice, that fresh a fallen angel in his cosmos.

Dare I tell you? I have a real crush on the text of "Toxic" by Britney Spears. Vui Vui ... I even downloaded its release, and I had made my ringtone phone. I assumed, year after year, Britney Spears being what it is ...

short. Yael Naim
came to my rescue (I assume more squarely the ringing of the phone!), And was able to give this song that "Toxic" was really over the text in the guts of the words: This rare chemistry between two people, history of molecules, amid Sensalite, eroticism, and suffering from addiction to body l'autre.

... Yaël naïm est vraiment mon merveilleux coup de coeur du moment. Quelle classe.

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NEW SOUL (Yael Naim)

(mon merveilleux coup de coeur du moment)


I'm a new soul I came to this strange world hoping I could learn a bit about how to give and take.
But since I came here felt the joy and the fear finding myself making every possible mistake

la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la...

I'm a young soul in this very strange world hoping I could learn a bit about what is true and fake.
But why don't please trying to comunnicate finding just that love is not always easy to make.

la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la...

This is a happy end cause' you do not understand Why Everything You Have Done Everything's so wrong

This is a happy end come and give me your hand I'll take your far away.

[Chorus]:
I'm a new soul I came to this strange world Hoping I could "learn a bit about how to give and take sincere purpose I came here fellt The Joy & the fear Finding myself making Every possible mistake

la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la ...

la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la ....

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Being my friend

Thank you very much, my friend. THANK YOU for

...
your presence in the most beautiful moments of joy
and difficult too.
Thanks for the smile and the lightness that you were able to m'insuffler
alleviate the tragedies, melodramas or my
. Thanks for this smoothness

understanding,
of this intelligence very feminine guess

behind a word, a look, a ride a little stronger on my forehead suddenly darker. Thanks for
never found my life's vagaries, his misfortunes,
the galleys,
chasms (maybe not so deep),
mountains (barely valleys)
while many others do I have not spared their opinions
if "enlightened"
I have not yet followed, leaving them the recipe was so good it
,
for their own Apple, in case "it" happen to them.

Thank you, Belle V.,
for staying on our path,
and always greeted me with any
opening a big heart can give.
It's so unusual, you know?
This is the chance of life than to find a date by a non-random person like you.
A star, a ray of sunshine, a tear, a silent cry too painful.
You're all that,
adorned with the colors of the rainbow of life, all in shadow and light. You


you're alive, V.
Life is so full of people who died inside ... They drag their biological body not radiate any color, they are tasteless, bland, and I'm still sad. Humanity has lost it or has it always been done?

Thanks dear, so dear V.
To be there.
Whatever happens.

I kiss you hard.
I am moved by all that mailer you tonight. Like that. A little while bulk.
You are a miracle of evidence on my way, and I must honor the universe for allowing me to meet you.
Was it therefore expect this so great day for me to tell you all this? Or simply the poem you sent me has been like the little key that would open the box where I keep preciously loved ones, but .. sometimes forgets to take out the words of affection that I keep with them?

Beautiful and sweet evening to you V. Baci
family. The

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night



Street of romanchaux, Charroux (Haute-Vienne)

Women See Thru Underwear

The Tinkerbell


My boots fairy had pavements. Just
bell, a little tipsy.
Heels sharp turlututu.
top class dressed in black above, below
sexy when naked, delicate low
My Lady Dior corset suspended
is spun to wait your call

to hang himself.
menu menu, j'impatientais. All excited

a moment to himself.
lot for you, just for me.
A night to you, one night in me.
Laliloula, Choubidou wouaaaah!

The phone call came to me
SSEUS.
Beneath the desk, my bottom
spun cotton
bad. All organic silk
they were, they never expected
gently caress
more.

I sensed the smell of another.
For one night, for life. Ciao bella
and well thank you:
- " I will not come ... can not ... want to ...
anymore, want more ... "
Trucnuche thingy.

Nunuche ridiculous, I have more

heard what you said.
I understood nothing.
I hung up.
Slightly bent.
not replaced (the) er .
Want to cry?
A little leak.
Masquerade
water splash into the icy water at the bottom of the abyss.

Pay out.
Between fingers
the son of life, these nodes
much unnecessary stress ,
your confessions too subtle.

I busted a mad laughing sad
.
p'tain cheek!
P'tain the slap!

And then ... I

Mr chin statement,
trembling with pride not guaranteed.
I shook my hair blond
draft,
blond rascal.
Help! Pinpon.
My little fish that glides without malice

the treacherous poison in my heart
pocket punishment.

person to save his fall p'tite fairy in the background? Not a
sam'HUE! on the horizon?
My body is wobble.
Cold shower hit too well. Olé olé
.. it never stops?

The fairy chose to save. Deciding not
s'noyer.
In my arms entwined myself.
Finishes: starry night, Bear, Zen Zen
Moon Round, full, picking up the sky over the
fairy fallen
you'll have no magic wand.


abracadrabra Abracadabra,
three little tricks, and you go away ...


moral of the stories and fairy prince charming
fallen from heaven,
the angel face
the heart of gall,
is still not on my head.

Small autodiscours a little (spokes) rang
"- is better. Must stop. Fricotter with mister From Happiness.
- You're right: sometimes I too m'serais accustomed to me / thee-weary.
- My good lady, know on: the Angels are never too considerate "

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Leila ( Dine at. Archives) The moments

















In the words of her



My name is Leila and I 8.


I hate my hair.
They are thick and like straw. But mom says they reflect red squirrels.
Those who are in the park in town. They climb to trees.
I like when you go to the park, both.
And I like squirrels.


There, now she looks at me.
From behind the lens of his camera. She made lots of pictures mom.
Later, when I grow up, I'd do the same.
And that would put me in the box as she says! But she does not like being photographed.
Yet she is beautiful with her short hair. They are golden blonde.
There's like little stars or small suns that shine within.
It should look like gold nuggets.
And also, it has its eyes wide open.
When she looks, she seems to "eat" things and people!
The eyes can not eat, I know.
But it feels like his mouth. Mom, she's hungry with his eyes.


She asked me to pose, but remain natural.
I have not understood what it is to remain natural.
As I knew, I looked and I figured it out.


My mom, she is not very large. Like me.
At school, girls in my class are bigger than me. Except Annette and Chloe. And Ingrid too.
But it's different.

Mom, she has soft lips. She kisses that are just sweet. Not
strong.
on the cheek and forehead.
But kisses are like hugs.
Sometimes I cry when she looks at me. And then she smiled. She takes my hand.
in his hand.
And she pulls a little.
Not hard.
But a little anyway.
She hands soft and warm, mom.
It makes me feel good, and then I cry.
She does not speak. Lastly but not so much. Like me.
At school, I have a friend who is always punished becaufe talkative in class. Me, I'm not
talkative.
Cause I know how to say never. So I say no.
At recess, I would rather run around the yard.
I play turn into dancing myself.
Because it makes me laugh to have his head turned as if I had drunk.
Even if I do not know what it is.
With Mom, I have not need to say. She understands everything.
Because of his eyes.


the morning I like it when she is preparing breakfast.
She thinks about something else. I dunno what. It's as if she is not there.
So I take this opportunity to watch it. I like when she is like this.
She must think she is going to take pictures. I know. She looks happy.
And it makes me laugh 'Cause sometimes she's wrong.
It gives me a cup of coffee instead of my bowl of chocolate.
Whoever is blue. With an orange flower.
She bought it for me and it puts it in the closet downstairs, next to the sink.
Parcequ'au first he was upstairs, but I could not catch him.
Mom had forgotten that I can not open up.
We laughed!


I like it when Mom laughs. Because she has her eyes that are just bent.
As the Chinese.
Finally I know. But it's funny.
And she has nice teeth. Who are all white. And it makes her laugh "i hi i hi i hi".
Makes me want to laugh even more.
She is too beautiful.


There she finished taking the picture.
It will show me, I know. But I wish she'd give me.
Just this one.
I do not know why.
It is because when she was taken, I thought very hard on her.
I love him very hard, Mom.
So it's as if she was in my eye.
Looks like this time it is I who have eaten with my eyes.
.
.
.
(I like the work of Deen. Come discover his universe)

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Nutella

all started one morning at the office, around a Nutella pot, purchased by the pro team, a message our Vero:

this morning I wanted to share with you this piece of Grand bodies ill sung by Idir. For this there are things we do not say ...


Letter to my daughter

[Idir / Grand corps malade] 2007



Every morning, you came to this mirror,

Adjusted the veil on your hair, which should take until this evening;

You told me to review a look before you leave home;

The bus takes you to college, where you build a horizon.



I remained motionless, I thought very hard on you;

Realizing the immense joy of seeing you live under my roof;

is true, I wont have never said nor too strong or very low-

But you know my daughter home, there are things we do not say.



I've elevated my best and I always paid attention

To perpetuate the rules, respect the tradition

As did my parents (I think without a fight) As

do all these men I meet at the mosque.



I've elevated my best as all ours

But was it for your own good? Or do as the others?

All these doubts arise and this terrible question:

is I who brought you high but you're only "happy"?



I know I am harsh, and many are prohibited:

You're going right after school and never go out on Saturday;

But the longer it goes and unless I manage to erase this thought:

 " Thinking about what in your room when your friends go dancing? to "



Everyone is proud of you, you were always a good student;

But have we seen quite often a real smile on your lips?

All that I ask myself, but never in front of you;

You know my daughter home, there are things we do not say



And if we decided that all right-thinking stops?

If for a time we forgot that we weigh these conveniences?

If for once you had the right to do what you want,

If for once you were dancing in your hair dropping



I want you to scream, and you sing in the face of world!

qu'tu I let grow all these pleasures t'inondent;
kinds
I want you, I want you ries, I want you to talk of love;

I want you hast the right to have 20 years

At least for a few days



It took courage to deliver to you my feelings,

But if I write this letter, so you know, simply

That I love you like crazy, even if you do not see, You know my

daughter at home, there are things we do not say.


... and then the seed has sprouted in our hearts

******************************* *******************************************

is really a very beautiful text. Besides, I love Grand Corps Malade. But
I made a horrifying discovery on the site and I intend to share with you.
Go click on the letter I (bottom of the message) and look at the album presented in 10th place.

P.

************************************************ **************************
'tend Vero ... Thank you for sharing this bo.


(Here right now, I like a rag in the back of the throat, something that interferes with my beating heart. Come see me in my buro, do not call. The Time to hunt some vision, some personal recollections and projections mom now.

Muslims, Catholics, Protestants, Buddhists, ...., Whatever. Cultivate the culture of "telling" our relatives, our loved ones.

So I write: to all of you, part of my daily life, who share my laughter and my blues too, who are accompanying my life from 9 to 17 h00 h30 ... You are to me important, and each and every I have this indescribably endearing. Many lives, each and every one of your rich journey of your emotional baggage, more or less heavy, often not unpacked, sometimes revealed or let you guess.

So many lives I like, as many stars as I hang in the sky of life. Remain what you are: shine with this flame that moves you, with your laughter and your rant.


Bene, Vero, Seb ', P., C., A. Chris'et Gwen' ... I love you like that.


It

******************************************** *******************************
Voila, this text Y'avait already upsetting you and which shall a layer of emotion.

But you're right, there are things we should say as long as you have time, not to regret not having done so. I know it's not very clear, but my vision is blurred a little.

I also love you.

P.

************************************************ **************************
me, my problem is that words can not get out and stay tucked in pit of my stomach ... but I think no less!

Vero

********************************************** ****************************
your little word touches me, Elle,

Me too, if I had to deliver to you, I would start by saying that I often talk about you to my daughter as if you were a little of my family somewhere a place in my heart is occupied by you and it makes me feel good, I admit. I just love you I love you like a mother at the slightest glance, I worry for you, now I have tears when I think of you, I want so much one is happy together. This is super, super important for our self. I LOVE YOU

A.

************************************************ **************************
A big thank you to you Veronica. for having the guts shaken this morning. Your share - things we do not say - went straight into my heart.

So I can not help you at all have a secret: I know (almost) perfectly IDIR, since 1978, when I saw him in concert in Bordeaux for the first time. At the time, he was expelled from his country of origin (Algeria Kabyle), given its "commitment" through the lyrics in his songs.

Since then I always followed his route, because his words have always challenged .... and I shared my life with the Kabylie for many years. Two children were born. (Now I close the parenthesis - Me -).

IDIR concert I saw two years ago. He has not sung, but shared with the audience, telling a story, lyrics - A daughter -. The audience was stuck .... my two grown children and me.

IDIR is a concert tomorrow evening in Marseille. I'm sure it will be great. If some or some do not know why not listen to his songs, you will not be disappointed (e) s. Feel free to go see him live if you get the chance.

Another thing: I also recommend the excellent film by Yamina Benguigui "MEMORIES OF IMMIGRANTS 'background music and songs IDIR. I have at your disposal if you wish.

Well, these few words for you, with the emotions on edge.

Thanks again Veronica.

B.
************************************************* *****************************
But uh, I'm all excited me!
It's nice your little messages
... It makes you want to take the course, running, jumping and singing about love, all naked on the lawn (well not here I digress)

Your messages have made my smile grow, thank you ...

As for what I think of you all, know that if I come here in the morning, beh not for the job ...

Seb '

******** ************************************************** *******************
I say all these words that touch me and said as Jean Cocteau: the verb to love is difficult to combine: his past is not simple, it is indicative present and its future is still conditional.

Gwen '

******************************************** ********************************
Taken together, our words, our laughter, our smiles, our pearls emotion in the eyes, are like a page from the book of life. A great gift that we offer today, with book signing.

it is probably the moment ... Nutella

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In my handbag



In my handbag



I put everything
found nothing.
I go as heavy as nothings
it full.
I put my cell phone, plug 'em when
not inadvertently
in the fridge.
Seven or eight pens,
a picture of my kid
a stick of lip gloss.
Four lipsticks, a blush powder mono
not free and a brush. Three
four lighters, or not enough

light cigarettes, that
j'glisse in the pocket:
It depends on the simple calculation of: the ones I bought, I stitched those

to I know that
(like "my" umbrella)
those I found no I know it was really possible
it and how?
And those I have forgotten, given
,
lost
or who never were returned to me?

In my purse, sometimes
There's nothing all times.
larger it is,
More y'en has it.
things essential, as useless:
cream "rescue" a bit of futile
Jewelry
M & M's blue. An invoice
EDF
drawing of a spaceship that Vincent

me an after-me coffee.
And three things in bulk,
Bach flowers,
my call at court
and a newspaper clipping.
I keep my four checkbooks,
and coins.
paper tissues
sometimes users.
Paracetamol,
a little pot of glue, scissors
Alice,
my "American spirit".
crumbs of cake,
Plus two tarot decks.

I find sometimes
keys ch'ais what. And I always looking

(It is never too far-sighted):
Those in the car, home, office, gate, garage, apartment Je,
Vee's home ,
that of K, the mailbox, and some others,
all mixed with each other.

In my purse, I plunge my hands

... Do not leave anything. Even if full

thousand and one gadgets.
Frankly,
not even make me feel a bit ridiculous
.
my handbag?
I love all full.