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You are using an insecure version of your web browser. Please update your browser! Using an outdated browser makes your computer unsafe. For a safer, faster, more enjoyable user experience, please update your browser today or try a newer browser. The blood jet is poetry. I live in a city. With lots of lights,. I do want I want,.
An animal wandered into our village tonight. And I gave him a name,. Because in his growl he promised my safety. But in his eyes,.
A Bomb That Missed Its Mark. Suffocating the crispness of the fall. The plane, though far away now,. What do we have to offer anyway,.
We are all packed together. As the bus takes us to. Just as my mother before me.
The Day I Became a Dixon. The Day I Became a Dixon. The golden metal polished earlier,. To a high shine,. Dressed in his best suit,. Took a deep breath,. Releasing the steering wheel from his choking grip. Butterflies in her stomach,. Or, was that just me,. Of a life yet to come,.
Ce blog est un outil de travail et de réflexion en amont et en aval du voyage. Il est destiné aux élèves de 302 et à leurs familles. De Ouarzazate à la Vallée du Drâa. Tournage du mardi 12 avril. Mieux que la valise RTL! La trace du draâ. Radio Lansargues, ici Timidarte.