J'en ai réellement prononcé des propos désabusés sur le mariage, le soir dans ma chambre, avec les copines étudiantes, une connerie, la mort, rien qu'à voir la trombine des couples mariés au restau, ils bouffent l'un en face de l'autre sans parler, momifiés. Vrai que j'aimais ma vie, que je voyais l'avenir sans désespoir. “Poétise, poétise, fais-toi le grand cinéma de la liberté passée. She stayed silent, and turned away, thinking.” As if looking through his eyes, she perceived her own withered skin, her sparse gray hair, the awkward gait with which she moved. Quickly she righted herself, but in that moment she saw him glance toward her, then look away in disinterest. But when she started eagerly toward him, she forgot her own weakness her dragging foot caught on a stone and she stumbled clumsily. Perhaps she would make the silly face, the one with which they had once mimicked each other. She had moved forward in that moment, intending to rush to him, to greet and embrace him. It was the same smile she remembered, the same silvery laugh. “Gabe!” she heard a boy call but she would have known him without hearing it.
He ran along the path near the cottage to which she had been assigned, calling to his friends, laughing, his unkempt hair bright in the sunlight. “She had seen her son for the first time, in this place, when he was a child of eight or nine.
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