Day 19 Cervical Mucus

> Case inspiring Ubimedia services: parking



A case inspiring a service Ubimedia copy deployed in the town of Issy Les Moulineaux based solution PayByPhone



> MultiDevice : on my smartphone to my computer ...
> on demand: Can I extend the parking lot, I can reduce and get a refund.
> ubiquitous : interactivity is possible from any location (home, office, on appointment, at the restaurant ... or from the car ...)
> eco-sustainable : paperless parking ticket
> increased use: more flexibility and freedom in the parking
> Ecosystem Local : hyperlocalisé tariff code and thus can change the rate by geographic area code local rate through this ... Local partnership opportunities are so numerous. For instance, a local brand gives me the parking lot because I am his customer

Announcing Doctor Going To A New Practice

All lives Veronica Ovaldé

"I like things that look tart but are poisonous, actually. "

She said this with a quiet smile and heard. She has cat eyes that would not have displeased Baudelaire, the word vivacity appears to have been created for her. One senses that she would have ended on a pyre in the Middle Ages. Too feminine, too upright, you see right away that she is a witch ...

But do not waste your time looking where she stashed her wand. It is in his style, his wand and the time to discover you made, I warn you, bewitched, and you run to your bookstore to buy all his novels, already missing, but how there are only six? ... A month ago, I did not know that name so now I know now I read where it leads me, and as you say it rarely happens with the writers. Look, I do not like science fiction, but tomorrow if she wrote a novel that happens to Pluto, I devour like the others. Because I know that even on Pluto in 5028, I find the vamps clueless, girls melancholy, poisonous ogres, knights patients. And I devour every word, every image. There are writers like that - oh, not much - that you catch in the first sentence and you delight to the last. Veronica
Ovaldé and I, we have a common point. We fell in Chandler's novels a very tender age, and found him through the magic of images, comparisons brilliant. They noted in a book. And of course there's Chandler Ovaldé. We were talking about pictures? Enjoy the power thereof:

"A shadow saw the faces of those who lost someone. The shadow of a vine. It grows and unwittingly, when they think nobody is watching, she bathes traits of absence of gravity and bemusement. It is a demon who lives discreet in their faces. He hides whenever anyone looks at him. "

(And my heart clear)

Yes, there is something in Véronique Ovaldé the nonchalance of fierce humor and melancholy of noir, a taste for women broken in red robes, with vertiginous heels and hair askew. A taste for the world and the margin of the shadow, that which distinguishes only if one has eyes of a cat. In his novels, small girls rarely attend school, they stand by themselves, sometimes they grow up too fast or it's just their body but they have the resource. There Lili in Men in general I like a lot , helpless little girl in a body of a teenager who lives with her little brother, cooped up in an apartment bunker by a tyrannical father and nazis since their mother is dead.

She hesitates between suicide (it missed) and survival, she is looking for a charming prince, even if it is not really one, even if it's face tattooed big manatee that lives to the floor above and that his love is not innocent:

"I grabbed the broom, the ceiling cracked in the kitchen and waited Yoïm descend, I thought, it must be that someone one saves us. I was fourteen, and I repeated it Somebody save us. I was fourteen, and it had seemed endless fourteen years. "

There's also the little Rose dislodge the animal , sublime love this mother with a mysterious past who one day disappears, leaving her alone with a mountain of issues, grief and abyssal rabbits :

"I took the disappearance of mom in my hands, I made a ball very tight, I swallowed so that the enemy can not find it - it will open up into two - and I asked my father, you're busy rabbits at least. Not putting in that "at least" the reproach that he could perceive (it, did you let her go, I hope instead that you have not abandoned rabbits, art thou so careless) but punctuating just my sentence to balance better. "

novelist loves both girls that she lets hop into his brain, take their ease, install their imagination, their ability to decipher secret agents the world of adults encrypted with a shoestring.

In each of the novels of Veronique Ovaldé, particularly in What I know Vera Candida his latest novel, already encased in prices, women have an exciting destiny, bristling with splinters and injuries bright.
It is not easy being a woman, the cards are distributed unevenly and the world bitter and sharp when it is so easily reduced to an object of desire. They argue heeled high on broken glass, passionately love their children away from their body while they were kissing, deep seal their secrets, are fleeing in illness or death when the resistance is no longer possible. They are mothers of their daughters and daughters of their mother, heiress of a love mixed neuroses that seem much cursing, they flee their place of origin to cut sick branch of the tree which bore, find shelter which are not. Thus, Candida Vera comes from a line of hookers and absent fathers, spawning shameful, spineless and brutal, and she fled to the island fifteen years and his legacy Vatapuna poisoned. In his belly, a little girl without a father he is to save the family repetition. She is tenacious, Vera Candida. Desperate, like all heroines Veronica Ovaldé, fragile and attracted by the possibility of a vacuum, but as strong and warlike, ready to raise an Amazon destiny nine. And as Rose in dislodge the animal as Irina in my heart And transparent on his perilous journey, she found a knight.


Knights of Ovaldé sometimes raised in a trailer with a mother intrusive, they dream is to rescue a beautiful young girl lost in a snowstorm. If they wish to tender soul and "make amends for all those who behave like bastards" , they are not stupid and feel the passion of the rescue is not entirely pure:

"Lancelot knew he was especially attracted by the poor unfortunate girl's special pieces, and that it had to do with his own mother. This kind of determinism plunged into great turmoil. He said, I'm magnetized by the pretty girls broken. And he felt a mixture of pride and disgust which left him breathless - like when you save someone from drowning and that she steals his wallet by reducing it to the bank. "
( And my heart transparent )

However, their patient love, tireless, opens a path to happiness unexpected heart and please the body, to the sweetness of a possible reconciliation with oneself and with the life, a lull in the storm raging behind the flaps. A pause, a breath to survive the terror of losing loved ones:

"The smell of Monica Rose was upset Vera Candida. She sat beside her daughter and plunged her face in her hair. They smelled of salt and iodine, wind, and something more subterranean mammal, such as sweat a tiny rodent or a small wolf. Vera Candida always said, How shall I do when I am a very old woman, I see no more, I try to remember that smell. She tried to register as on clay cylinders feelings related to her daughter's hand early in his, how Monica Rose clutched her neck with her arms as thin as reeds, she clutched clutched by putting all his tiny force, and it was unthinkable not to be two one day, it was so unfair that it seemed impossible. "

Well, I hope you feel like you have given to bewitch your turn. For Christmas, I think I could not think of better gift.

soon.

Gaëlle Nohant

Wella Color Chart Koleston

Agree? ...

Hello.

Today I talk about two books that shake, upset. It is good sometimes to let stir. I know the holidays are approaching, with the tinkling bell of reindeer, red and purple ribbons, stars in icing sugar ... But first, take, do you want a moment to approach the shadows of the Holocaust still alive who passed on earth in a flash, leaving humanity to his face. There are those who died and whose features seem to melt forever in this painting Munch, The Scream . There are those who survived and did are never forgiven. There are those, lastly, that the accident of history has turned into witnesses. Those are all kinds. There are the indifferent who cadenassèrent their eyes and ears, there is the impassive, those who risked or lost their lives because of the secrets they had surprised ... And there are those who tried to warn, to act to prevent. And they were silenced by letting them speak in a vacuum.

It is these last two authors of our day have chosen to look closely. Yannick Haenel by writing "for" Jan Karski, the liaison officer of the Polish resistance who testified before the camera Claude Lanzmann at the end of "Holocaust .

Bruno Tessarech by convening, in his novel The Sentinel , the ghosts of that Karski, Kurt Gerstein and Wernher von Braun, two witnesses Nazis who do not belong to one world or the same species. Both novels suggest a reality long flush taboo: the fact that the Allies knew fairly early (1943) that a process of extermination was under way and did nothing to stop it.

The silence of the allied nations resonates terribly in our minds because it reminds us of our own responsibility in the tragedies that we skim, we participate and perhaps in our own way, even by non-assistance to persons in danger . It has been slow to say. Recall that after war, everyone wanted to tell the wonderful story of good against evil, of a France entirely populated by partisans, who had discovered a world petrified In 1945, the existence of concentration camps. Then
historians have begun to erode this legend, to show that Hitler did not take the German people hostage but was elected through a democratic process, the Einsatzgruppen, who were committing the massacres of Jewish people in the back the eastern front, were populated by nice family men ... That the French Resistance had been multiple, complex and minority ... That France had shown the auxiliary slave of the Final Solution, particularly during the roundup of the Vel d'Hiv ... etc etc.. Some truths still struggled to come to the surface, as the silence of the Allies against the Holocaust. But here are two novels
powerful, two bites into our flesh forgetful who hear the voices of those heartbreaking fallen angels, condemned to wear an endless message that nobody wanted to hear

"This is a real torment live with a message that was never issued, there is something crazy, "said Jan Karski in the novel Yannick Haenel.

These "crazies", I call them angels, not because these men were saints, but because angels are messengers responsible for important news. But the message of the Holocaust was a bomb, the door was not safe. He could put you in the front line, cost you your life. He could also get a slow burn, make you a ghost in your turn, sleepless and haunted. But we do not choose to be a witness. It is chosen against his will. It probably would prefer to stay warm, do not see these people behind the peephole in the gas chamber, not having to fix his gaze on the ground to avoid these puppets of flesh hanging from hooks in the basement of Dora, have never visited by two leaders of the Jewish ghetto in Warsaw. They have never uttered such words as these:

"We are human.

Do you understand?

Do you understand?

What happens to our people is unprecedented in history.

Maybe it does shake the conscience of the world? "

(Testimony of Jan Karski in Shoah by Claude Lanzmann)

If Jan Karski and Sentinels are two novels critical of the literary season, including two novels themes and concerns come together, they are very different in how they approach them. Jan Karski, who just received the price of Allied, is centered on this character it approaches concentric circles. The book is divided into three parts, which starts in Karski's testimony Holocaust, through the tumultuous life of this former letter of the Polish government in exile to lead a party of fiction where Yannick Haenel enters head of the witness and imagines his life after. course, the character of Jan Karski can ask the nagging question of the passivity of the nations allied against the Holocaust. But the heart of the book is not the issue but the man and his torment, his paradoxes, and this novel gives a poignant and lived with it would not go unscathed. If Yannick Haenel has let himself haunted by Karski, the novel acts as a contagion and could haunt you in your turn. That's all the harm I wish you both a hero complex, noble and tormented, deserves your attention. Listen to him talk through Yannick Haenel:

"The sleepless nights are like the rainy country. When it rains, you hear the bells. I noticed that in my childhood in Lodz. If we focuses well, if we listened, then every moment it is night and night is white, and it rains. That either Poland or New York, in a prison of the Gestapo or in a hotel room in Brooklyn, whether you are happy or unhappy, or abandoned by all surrounded by love, we hear the bells. Does God died at Auschwitz? "

This part is where Yannick Haenel Jan Karski, talks to Jan Karski, is the most beautiful in the book, more precisely subjective and stronger. It resonates with you long after you close the novel. has been criticized for the author to defend Poland, using Jan Karski, but Poland really needs to be defended, as she was unloved and mistreated by history. Admittedly, this jumper distinguished survivor of the massacre of Polish intellectuals in the Katyn woods is not all Poles, but the anti-Semitic blowhard who testifies in Holocaust his glee to see the Jews move in convoys cattle do not represent. Beyond those issues where the controversy is still nestle, forgetting that Jan Karski is a novel, not a historical document ... Beyond that, we must bow low to the work of a writer who has exemplified this hero broken, tearing, sentenced listen to his message resonate in a vacuum, and which received " solitude to destiny"

" Within this sleepless night, which opened in my life, I make sure I spend my time to reject the idea that it is too late. For with the speech, the time comes. I spoke, I have not listened and I keep talking, and perhaps you will hear me : perhaps you will hear what is in in my words, and just beyond my voice, maybe in this message that I sent there over fifty years, something resists time, and even the extermination , Perhaps, inside the message is there another message . "

A cookie is a survivor first, and Jan Karski, who chose a life of risk, a life of secret agent, has survived in extremis at Katyn massacre and torture by the Gestapo. He was responsible in passing the burden of these massacres of Russian and Nazi executioners erased the traces behind. Jan Karski , or history of a message that took possession of his messenger, and left him no rest. On the adventurer who became the man crying in the wilderness to exhaust his voice. Up what words in his throat hoarse. Until her tears on your cheeks slip to you.

In Sentinels Bruno Tessarech book about a fascinating indictment of him, crossed through portraits of several involuntary witnesses of the extermination process. This novel which consumes more than it reads start in 1938 at the Evian Conference, which played the plight of Jewish refugees trying to flee Hitler's Germany. Conference where nations vied indifference, cowardice and anti-Semitism, and eventually send a joint letter Joachim von Ribbentrop, foreign minister of the Reich, asking him to find himself a " solution" to the German Jews. The letter is historic, the word "solution" is released. Always fair, never Manichean, Bruno Tessarech embraces all viewpoints, including those of allied forces, who chose to win the war first, even at the expense of millions of victims. His book is chilling because it reminds us of our human responsibility and morality. Before the sterile discussions of these nations that refer endless ball of "waste" of the Hitler regime, accepting lip Jews richest or "filled with talent," establishing a hierarchy of value between the refugees ... how not to think about the status of the stranger in our societies? Une minorité de Juifs parvinrent à échapper, à prix d'or, à la souricière nazie. Other ... others were abandoned by the world:

"Now the world is split into two countries where Jews can not live, and where they can not hide."

can quibble endlessly about what the Allies should or could do to stop Solution Final. But one thing is certain, and the novel Tessarech Bruno reminds us forcefully: even before the war, well before the chimneys of Auschwitz had begun to spit their sinister smoke, the Allied nations had abandoned the Jews. Of course, our democratic and civilized societies do not want them to be killed ... Just as they were freed. Hitler took care of it, and it is not surprising that despite the rumors and stories, nobody is rushing to stop him. In Sentinels Bruno Tessarech lends these words President Roosevelt in 1944:

"We do nothing to stop the death of the Jewish people. We went up to deny the facts, as they crowded us. And now that the mass of information and evidence puts us back to the wall, unable deny the evidence, we dither. The immigration quotas, economic blockade, free access to all ocean vessels, the Palestinian question, who knows what else. We remain in politics. Not in morality. "

superb in this scene, we discover a poignant and weakened Roosevelt, plagued by doubts when leaving life:

"Suddenly malaise takes over Roosevelt's after him. Where is it past, his political courage, in the case of the Jews? The war had to exhaust all reserves. Day after day he thought it sufficient to implement the best solution, say the least bad. Then he had to invent a new one. rush things. Exit rational solutions. Fighting Nazi madness with another form of madness: that of life against that of death. "

Sentinels and Jan Karski, written at the same time, perhaps because the issues they arise are always present in these times when immigration services of our countries set themselves up judges of the "value" of a man, respond beautifully to one another. Both wear the broken voice of the tormented hero, helpless and beautiful, determined and desperate, who returned from Hell to deliver the "speech of the dead" that the killers felt suffocated. And Kurt Gerstein, an engineer at the Institute for disinfection of Oranienburg, ambivalent character, the Nazi days, witness the night, losing sleep and reason after attending one of the first "disinfection" of the camp of Belzec . Kurt Gerstein is Moreover, the hero of a film by Costa Gavras' Amen "released to theaters in 2002. But among Sentinels Bruno Tessarech, there are also Wernher von Braun, the engineer who created the Nazi V2 rockets in underground Dante Dora and was welcomed with open arms by those Americans who had slammed their doors nosed Jewish refugees. Vernhes von Braun, having been deaf and blind throughout the war, lowering her eyes to avoid seeing the hanged, summary executions, long lines of undead, participated in the Apollo program and was fortunate enough to see off the first rocket to the moon.

" testifying for the witness?" asks Paul Celan. Yannick Haenel, Bruno Tessarech. And thanks to them, you don 'forget it anytime soon haunted these messengers.

Gaëlle Nohant

I Have An Itchy Rash And Stiff Neck

Jean-Philippe Toussaint or the Art of Fugue

Hello,

Nothing prepared me for coming to talk about Jean-Philippe Toussaint . Because New Roman is me, we're a little angry, long time. Because I'm happy those who grumble that France, the style flourished often at the expense of history, and vice versa ... Because my cup of tea is rather Anglo-Saxon writers, and not too similar to the stories of chamber music.

but guess what. I read a few things on this Belgian author who had seduced me. Including an interview where he said no, he did not take great pleasure in writing, or else if, but a little masochistic pleasure, so it was difficult. Because he had to go so deep in itself. And it is not natural to go down by itself as in a mine, it's hard, look at the number of people who remain on the surface and find themselves very happy. As it bothers me to hear an author say he wrote a book with ease and joy, which I just about every sentence painfully extracted ... I found it nice. And most importantly, he added something that touched me: we write because we are a little inadequate in the world, a little margin, and then, writing accomplishes this miracle (when you touch readers) to take you back to the world, you give up your margins, a real place that you reconcile with him. Suddenly, it made me want to read his novels. In addition, it is funny. If so. it laughs too, a writer Midnight. Look at his picture, that little seeming to have your head gently. It is similar in its novels. He might write them in pain, he has fun and entertains us.

So I read about Mary's triptych, which begins Make love, continues with Fleeing ( Prix Médicis 2005), and concludes ( temporarily) with The Truth About Mary (which was neck and neck with Marie Ndiaye for Goncourt and won the prize December 2009), which is anything but the truth about Mary, but who cares. And gradually, a novel to another, while my fascination was growing, and with my admiration, I started thinking, well, that Jean-Philippe Toussaint should have some power Sorcerer. Since leaving the reserve, as we dip the toe in the water of a swimming pool to find an objective reason not to dive, I'm finished reading completely enthralled with the desire to read everything. Plus I entered the text writing by Jean-Philippe Toussaint bore me, like a bath of Music, where she wanted, but I'm trying to keep me on the edge of the pages, I let myself slip into the raging torrent, a scary moment in contemplation radiant, a panicked heartbeat a breath or a whisper quiet love. Because the style of Saints is so virtuosic and clear it carries with it the twilight and the sun, music and silence, what is not said, what can be said but one reads in a heartbeat eyelash, a tear, the rustle of a goblet glass against another, the posture of a rebellious young woman at the funeral of his father. His writing is breathing, sometimes breathless and exhausted, sometimes slow and gentle, sensual and murmuring.

But talking about this love story fatal and inevitable that runs along the three novels like an invisible thread, and that sums up the opening sentence Fleeing : "Is it ever done with Mary?" In the timeline a bit shaken novels, the narrator breaks up with Mary in the first and is found in the third (well they meet only to discover that the end is separated they love best), while the second is for the summer before their breakup. Over these three novels, Tokyo to the Louvre, from China to the Island of Elba, a sweltering night in Paris to the tarmac at Narita airport, the link between these two people continues despite the insults of their love. And survives at break, bereavement, with intermittent connections. In fact, in each novel, the narrator and Mary love each other mainly in the lack, the telescoping distance, including when they are alongside one another. The key to this relationship may be, although it is as elusive as Mary herself, in fact the narrator of Fleeing :

" We loved each other, but we do we will bear more . There was this, now, in our love, that even if we continue to make the whole more good than bad, the little trouble we were doing we had become unbearable. "

They are together even when separated by oceans or other bodies, hot bodies and bloody, dying or placed in a coffin. The power of their love packs the mechanism of nature, raises land of earthquakes, fires, floods of tears of rain, and does not hesitate to kill those who stand in the way. And it only takes one phone call in the middle of the night to revive in the Japanese narrator all thought he had mixed feelings suffocate by escaping:

"I emerged from the cabin, upset, heavy heart, infinitely happy and unhappy. With it in five minutes, I did not know who I was, she made me turn my head, she took my hand and made me turn on myself at full speed until my worldview goes wrong my panic and become inoperative instruments, all my marks were scrambled, I was walking through the icy air of night and I did not know where I went, I watched the dark water shining on the surface of the channel and I I felt caught by conflicting impulses, exacerbated, irrational. "

Will it one day finished with Mary?" Probably never, even if the hourglass ruthless time precipitated the end of their love, even if death is lurking everywhere, ready to strike, as in a Shakespearean drama. All three novels poses a threat more or less accurate. In Fleeing :

"I had filled a vial of hydrochloric acid, and I kept it on me at all times, with the idea of taking a day at the mouth of someone. "

In Lovemaking is China that bears this threat, a mysterious China, starts standing where Chinese actors exchanging cryptic about this in language that the narrator does not understand where his "escort" a little overzealous has an eye on him and he eventually won in a chase on motorbikes, but who are they pursued? Why? Finally, in The Truth About Mary this sentence worthy of a thriller puts us on alert from the first pages:

"But I prefer to remain cautious when the exact sequence of events of the night, because it is still a man of destiny, or his death, we can not survive long or not if. "

between thriller and love story, a continuation motorcycle displays a calm summer day on the island of Elba, Jean-Philippe Toussaint takes us with humor, seriousness, fantasy, according to his whim. The Truth About Mary , but an evil who can say ... It is interesting to glean clues here and there that draw a character between shadows and light, messy, carefree Mary, Mary full pages in tears, proud and stop Mary, dressed in riding to the funeral mass of his father ... there is something intractable in Mary, she loves the mess is secured by a fierce determination. "Unpredictable, whimsical, tuante incomparable "as is Mary, and even if her man is leaking, it is she who ultimately escapes to the endangerment, between vertigo and pride.

Then you will understand that with all that (and yet I'm limited, I had so much to tell you ...), I can only commit to make the acquaintance of Mary savoring the subtleties of the text by Jean-Philippe Toussaint . And even if all three novels can be read separately in any order or however you like, read the following you can see the whole canvas, to find a book to another statement, which echoes meet to each other in an irresistible alchemy.

soon.

Gaëlle Nohant