Demain, dès l'aube, à l'heure où blanchit la campagne,
Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m'attends.
J'irai par la forêt, j'irai par la montagne.
Je ne puis demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps.

Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées,
Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit,
Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées,
Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit.

Je ne regarderai ni l'or du soir qui tombe,
Ni les voiles au loin descendant vers Harfleur,
Et quand j'arriverai, je mettrai sur ta tombe
Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur.

Les Contemplations. Victor Hugo

Well, if you wanna slowly kill yourself, be my guest. As long as you don't deteriorate mine in the process nor destroy my sense of smell by polluting my nosebuds.

And yeah, non smokers can get cancer thanks to the generosity of smokers. My grans had mouth cancer and never touched a cigarette.

I myself, am asthmatic to smoke.

So I really don't mind of you smoking. At all. Just do it far away from people, as most of them are totally and completely annoyed by you saying "oh! my bad, didn't realise the wind was going that way."

And no, smoking is not sexy. And it gives you bad breath. And you look like an idiot if you happen to grow a beard or a mustache, as it yellows your hairs. Did I mention cancer?

I decided to name them and then give you the first page.

In no particular order, three books you must read :

# Belle du Seigneur (Her Lover), Albert Cohen :




On Amazon.com, somebody wrote the following review and I totally agree with it:

"This book is not only a laugh-out-loud masterpiece, it is also the Bible of Romantic Love, which is to say, the most all-encumpassing work of sexual attraction consumation and disgust ever before wrought or heretofor imagined. You are a different person having read Belle du Seigneur than you were before, and you will be forever enriched if you've yet to take the plunge.
Read this book. Buy this book. Make a statement to the Universe that we are here for good reason: to live, to learn, and to love."


# Middlesex, Jeffrey Eugenides




# Wuthering Height, Emily Brontë




As for the three worst book, again, in no particular order :

# Il disprezzo (Contempt), Alberto Moravia



# Twilight, Stephenie Meyer



# Une Vie, Guy de Maupassant

"Jeanne, ayant fini ses malles, s'approcha de la fenêtre, mais la pluie ne cessait pas.
L'averse, toute la nuit, avait sonné contre les carreaux et les toits. Le ciel bas et chargé d'eau semblait crevé, se vidant sur la terre, la délayant en bouillie, la fondant comme du sucre. Des rafales passaient pleines d'une chaleur lourde. Le ronflement des ruisseaux débordés emplissait les rues désertes où les maisons, comme des éponges, buvaient l'humidité qui pénétrait au-dedans et faisait suer les murs de la cave au grenier.
Jeanne, sortie la veille du couvent, libre enfin pour toujours, prête à saisir tous les bonheurs de la vie dont elle rêvait depuis si longtemps, craignait que son père hésitât à partir si le temps ne s'éclaircissait pas, et pour la centième fois depuis le matin elle interrogeait l'horizon.
Puis elle s'aperçut qu'elle avait oublié de mettre son calendrier dans son sac de voyage. Elle cueillit sur le mur le petit carton divisé par mois, et portant au milieu d'un dessin la date de l'année courante 1819 en chiffres d'or. Puis elle biffa à coups de crayon les quatre premières colonnes, rayant chaque nom de saint jusqu'au 2 mai, jour de sa sortie du couvent.
Une voix, derrière la porte, appela : " Jeannette ! "
Jeanne répondit : " Entre, papa. " Et son père parut."

Je voulais parler de choses et d'autres et puis je suis tombé sur le post de Gaby et là, tout d'un coup, je n'ai pas pu parler d'autre chose que de l'ami Pierre Bottero.

Je l'ai rencontré alors qu'il était à Fuveau pour le troisiéme volume des aventures d'Ewilan. Et de salons en salons nous avons papoté, il m'a dedicacés tous les livres que j'ai de lui et c'était à chaque fois une joie de le revoir, de discuter, d'echanger.
Il fait parti de ces auteurs qui m'ont inspiré et donné l'envie d'ecrire.

C'est en lisant son bouquin que j'ai eu l'envie de donner un monde paralléle à Korey, un monde fait d'assassin et de royaumes etranges. Il ne fut pas ma seule influence, mais il a bien aidé. Alors la prochaine fois que Korey utilisera une piéce de cuivre pour traverser, je penserai à Pierre et à son pas de coté.

Il y a des auteurs qui d'un sourire, d'une histoire, vous marque plus que prévu.

C'était Pierre Bottero pour moi.

Il es mort hier suite à un accident de moto. Il sera fortement manqué.

Title: Donne moi ta main et prends la mienne
Author: lilibel
Fandom: Hélène & les Garçons/Les Vacances de l’Amour
Characters: José, Nicolas
Pairing: José/Nicolas
Genre: Badfic. Crack. Romance too.
Rating: R (because you never know)
Prompt: 222 a second @  story_lottery
Summary: The little things they have always wanted to do and never did. The little thing they never wanted to do and finally did.
Spoilers: None
Warning(s): semisweetsoul had the loveliness to allow me to post in french. So it’s in French. And not even good french as it is.
Word Count: 1122
Disclaimer: They all belong to AB Production who probably never intended to have them slashed in any ways.
A/N: Once every 18 months or so, the need to slash those two takes me. And thanks to Leimy and Angel who beta-read it ^^;

Donne moi ta main et prends la mienne

(oui, je procrastine, et alors! c'est pas comme si j'avais 1400 mots de retard sur mon compte journalier hein :p)

(et non, même pas honte d'avoir ecrit cette fic. J'assume. A fond. Même si je me cache au fond d'une foret derriere un gros sequoia pour pas qu'on me voie)

Et donc nyrelis est bien arrivée à la casa, toute vivante et donneuse de calins.
Comme les lignes de metros sont caca le weekend en ce moment, nous n'avons pas pu aller à Spitafield voir des corsets chez Fairy GothMother.
Donc on est restée à papoter en interieur, avec test de thé et visionnage de photos.

Ce soir c'est soirée Halloween avec ecriture en rentrant ^^

Sur ce, elle va me relire une fic en tentant de pas s'estroubiller les retines.

A la douche Lili.

Ca se passe de commentaire.
<3

Dans le Castle de cette semaine, Nathan Fillion se deguise en cowboy de l'espace et ressemble etrangement à Mal Reynolds. 2 minutes plus tard, il est dans un cimetiére et le cadavre du jour à un pieu dans le coeur. Castle cite alors Buffy. YAY for fandom colideness of lurve.
And what does he answer when they try to figure who would stake someone sporting fake fangs? Lycans. Cos they have been at war for centuries agaisn tthe vampires.

This is a rant post about this week Striclty Come Dancing results.
I know that I don't vote and thus can't say anything but really really, I need to vent.

When Craig and Flavia were called by Bruno or Tess, I shouted at my computer. I am so fucking not happy with them coming back week after week and leaving great couples in the dance-off. And I have nothing against Flavia. She is a great pro and all, but Craig is a fucking bad dancer. And he is always having a goldfish face when dancing, and messing up his steps and having no friggin rythm whatsoever.

And yeah, Jo Wood is bad too but at least she shows some excitement when dancing. But she deserved to be in the dance-off, AS MUCH AS CRAIG DID. But no. No. People apparently want him to be in Blackpool. So Jade and Ian have to go in the dance-off. Like last week Zoe and James.

What the fuck is wrong with you people! I know is bloody reality TV and so on, but at some point you have to face the facts : Jade is gorgeous and doesn't fuck up her steps and smiles and is good at what she does. CRAIG IS NOT.

Who is gonna be in the dance off next week uh? Ali and Brian? Ricky and Nathalie? Who else needs to be there so that fucking Craig can dance in Blackpool because it's his hometown and would mean so much to him?

Now Jo is gone, he is the only one who is NOT fit to be a decent contender.

Look at Ricky Groves for example. He was car-crash TV at the beginning but he is getting good. Craig is the same since week one. Why does someone who can't dance is still there in the competition? If at least he had been in the dance-off and got out of it winning, but no. Not even in the dance-off.

And that pisses me off to no end. Because next week is week 8 and what? he is gonna get out of there unscatted once more? So yeah. AM NOT HAPPY.

*grumble grumble*

Noooon je ne regarde pas du tout les possibilités de doctorat à UCL. Non du tout. Lalalalalalala.

*iz in denial*

Tonite I came upon the realisation that I do not believe in myself and in what I am capable of.
It's harsh, it's sans pitié but it is utterly true.

I am not good enough. And yet I still manage to achieve the things I consider myself not qualified enough for. So I should stop thinking that I am not good enough. But it doesn't work like that apparently 'cos as far as I'm concerned, if the realisation crashed upon me now, it has been like that for years.

Maybe now that I have accepted this fact, I may be able to break the mould and just believe in myself, believe in my abilities and accept that, most of the time, I fucking good at what I am doing. Can I do it? Meep.

Le site web du jour est Articuler.com
J'en connais une bonne partie mais j'avoue que j'en decouvre ce soir.
J'adore. Combien de fois mes parents m'ont demandé de faire "panier piano" pendant un voyage en voiture afin que je leur foute la paix 5 minutes.

_____________

اَينَ تَرْلُسْ؟
ًاَنا ارْلُسْ ف لَدَْدَنْ مَتْ

All this is supposed to mean :

Where do you study?
I study at London Met

In translitteration it gives smthg like that :

Eyna tadrouss?
Ana adrouss fi London Met

Because I'm discovering this arabic keyboard, there are probably a few mispelling but hey! I'm trying very hardly to put my learning into writing.

It's not going that bad in the end. And my extensive learning of sound and lettering seems to pay off. Yay. I'm not as backlagged as I thought I would. Still, the sukoon and tanween are killing my brain.

Happy bday to me :)

So I'm now 24. I couldn't care less about 24. Honestly. Doesn't rock my world, doesn't change my life. It's in the 20s limbo, lost between 20 and 25. 20 is big 'cos it's a new decade. 25 is quarter of a century. 24 is just 25 in the antechamber.

Doesn't mean I don't like the fact that I'm a year older, nor the hugs and kisses and the presents and good wishes. No, it's just that the number in itself is pretty blah. Nothing exciting about that.

In fact, at that precise moment, 25 years ago, I was still in my mum's uterus, not bothered about coming out. I was born a bit before noon.

Anyway. What do I want for my bday? Peace in the world? Nope. I want loads of stuff.

One of them is a bottle of Hermes' Amazone which is one of my favorite perfume ever and is only available in Hermes' stores. You can't find it in retail anymore and they don't make the whole line anymore either. My bottle is showing signs of being almost finished and that is really a present that would make my day a hundreds time brighter than ever. I have been having this perfume since I was a little girl. It was a Christmas present from my cousine but really had the touch of my aunt who is kinda posh in her ways (she is overcompensating for the fact that she is a butcher's daughter, but she is lovely). I had the whole line as a present, with the soap, the body lotion and all. And I really love the fragrance of this perfume. It's refreshing at the crosspath of spring and summer, lost in the wood near a hidden lake. It smells like fairies and hushed secrets. So yeah. This bottle is almost finished and I am feeling bad everytime I put some on me 'cos it means it's a step further toward the end of it.

All that to say that I'd love this year to be an Amazone year. One of those years where everything and anything is possible, where I can grab something and make a run for it, feeling all giddy and lively at the end of the run. Where I can be alittle kid again and smell this fragrance all over me while taking a shower, this grown-up fragrance that makes me dream of blackcurrent pies and friendly secrets.

Amazone is my safe smell. The smell that tells me everything is gonna be alright. Yeah. I'd love this year to be an Amazone year.

(just discovered you can buy it on the website. L'eau de fraicheur, 100ml, 68€. Aouch.)

Everything is rushing back to the surface. Damn. How can I find sleep now?

Fuck!
Stephen Gately is dead.

What the hell is going on those days with boysband members? All the guys who rocked my teenage years are dying, one after the other.

Stephen was the cutie, the one whose smile would brighten a piss poor day at school. I enjoyed it when he was soloing and had a tiny little itty bitty huge crish on him at some point.

He was 33 years of age and he is dead.

No matter what where they take us, we'll find our own way back

The seminar we are having is quite ok. The place is awesome, the beds are fantabulous and the people really nice. We are mingling, learning about one another and working on communication and marketing stuff. This morning exercice was really good as it didn't teach me a thing but toally refreshed my knowledge as all that was done during my Bachelor, 2 years ago.

Now I'm going back to the class and i'm running late due to the awesomeness of a Spuffy fanfic ^^;

After finishing all the theory crap of my handout, I managed to write a  quick little drabble for story_lottery.

Title: Somewhere beyond, there is home.
Author: lilibel 
Fandom: Doctor Who
Character: Rose Tyler
Genre: Schmoopy
Rating: PG
Prompt:07. #24 - a rainbow @ story_lottery
Summary: There is something about rainbows that can be magical
Spoilers: If you haven't seen the end of season 2 there are some.
Word Count: 315
Disclaimer: The Beebs owns the show and all that jazz.
A/N: Currently working on my thesis and this popped out of nowhere. It's 2am here and if I re-read it a few time, it's not betaed.

Somewhere beyond, there is home

___

Off to bed now. I must resist the urge to write some Jack/Rose under the Cardiff rain. After handing in the bloody paper.