Eating your groatsworth of mou en civet, fleshpots of Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen. Just say in the most natural tone : when I was in Paris ; boul’ Mich’, I used to.
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Protée
Articles
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#Ulysse 682
18 décembre 2013, par Guillaume Vissac -
#Ulysse 726
31 janvier 2014, par Guillaume VissacLoveless, landless, wifeless.
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#Ulysse 758
4 mars 2014, par Guillaume VissacA school of turlehide whales stranded in hot noon, spouting, hobbling in the shallows.
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#Ulysse 781
27 mars 2014, par Guillaume VissacOn a field tenney a buck, trippant, proper, unattired.
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#Ulysse 763
9 mars 2014, par Guillaume VissacThe dog’s bark ran towards him, stopped, ran back. Dog of my enemy.
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#Ulysse 788
3 avril 2014, par Guillaume VissacHis speckled body ambled ahead of them and then loped off at a calf’s gallop.
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#Ulysse 599
26 septembre 2013, par Guillaume VissacA misbirth with a trailing navelcord, hushed in ruddy wool. The cords of all link back, strandentwining cable of all flesh.
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#Ulysse 829
14 mai 2014, par Guillaume VissacTurning his back to the sun he bent over far to a table of rock and scribbled words.
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#Ulysse 698
3 janvier 2014, par Guillaume VissacBelluomo rises from the bed of his wife’s lover’s wife, the kerchiefed housewife is astir, a saucer of acetic acid in her hand.
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#Ulysse 876
30 juin 2014, par Guillaume VissacAnd, spent, its speech ceases. It flows purling, widely flowing, floating foampool, flower unfurling.