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| sex, prayer, mama, audio, to, jewish blogs, social networking, sucking, manifesto, overtime pay, personalpublishing, a, gladys' comedy room, israel blogs, israel, cock, review, stand up comedy, | My father was away for 1996 cricket world cup the whole of the war, first at the front, then as a prisoner in Germany, near Idar-Oberstein. Would our war have been different if my father hadn't been a prisoner? You can't remake history, you have to take the world as it is with all the 1996 cricket world cup dead on its battlefields, the emigrations, famines, purges, and exterminations. My father wasn't entirely with us even before the war. He went to work, he came home, he did some gardening on Sundays and summer evenings. In winter 1996 cricket world cup he bottled his wine in the cellar; he went to Mass on Sundays and took Communion, a reflex left over from his childhood. When he got up in the morning he said, "How are you?" and didn't wait to hear the answer. He lived in a world of his own, what world you couldn't really be sure, double-locked behind an invisible door: it was a tenuous veil but enough to make him inaccessible. |
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| Anne didn't go back to school after this israel escapade, but she was spared having to work. She spent her evenings dancing, her mornings sleeping, and her afternoons flirting. She was free to do anything she liked, and she knew no bounds. Yet our parents had israel been strict with Isabelle and me. We were kept under permanent supervision. My elder sister israel had met a boy from the southwest, some godforsaken dump in Gascony; you couldn't get there by either train or car in under sixteen hours. She married him in haste to get out of the parental line of fire. On the day when that photo was taken she was visiting, which was unusual. It was Easter time, I think, but she left that same evening. We hardly ever saw her, and spent the war without her. When the national territory was cut in two, she didn't mind: a bold demarcation line traced across the map of France separated her from us, a border like a cordon sanitaire. Myself, I stayed within range of my mother. I was rather a docile character. |
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