<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256</id><updated>2011-07-30T21:44:47.777-07:00</updated><category term='Audrey Hepburn'/><category term='Jane Austen'/><category term='William Shakespeare'/><category term='icons'/><category term='Alan Rickman'/><category term='Pride and Prejudice'/><category term='Kate WInslet'/><category term='Persuasion'/><category term='Photographies'/><category term='music'/><category term='Atonement'/><category term='Walt Whitman'/><category term='Breakfast at Tiffanys'/><category term='Italie'/><category term='Bill Muray'/><category term='Jamie Cullum'/><category term='Emma Thompson'/><category term='Henry James'/><category term='Washington Square'/><category term='James Mc Avoy'/><category term='becoming Jane'/><category term='Mansfield Park'/><category term='Serge Gainsbourg'/><category term='Françoise Hardy'/><category term='myself'/><category term='Leaves of Grass'/><category term='Clara Bow'/><category term='Lost in Translation'/><category term='Keira Knightley'/><title type='text'>Bits of Ivory</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-1102478609359520057</id><published>2010-11-01T15:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T15:37:04.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>God, I haven't come here for ages. I wonder if I still have things to say, my english is getting worst every single day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;should I stay or should I go ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/TM89AhhNJGI/AAAAAAAAAQo/fomH8I9QJ4U/s1600/3092512551_9b79c8958b_o.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="173" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/TM89AhhNJGI/AAAAAAAAAQo/fomH8I9QJ4U/s320/3092512551_9b79c8958b_o.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-1102478609359520057?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1102478609359520057/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=1102478609359520057&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/1102478609359520057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/1102478609359520057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2010/11/god-i-havent-come-here-for-ages.html' title=''/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/TM89AhhNJGI/AAAAAAAAAQo/fomH8I9QJ4U/s72-c/3092512551_9b79c8958b_o.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-7633957371246757122</id><published>2009-02-16T04:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T04:36:31.855-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mondays are usually full of lonelyness and dreams.&lt;br /&gt;You weak-up early and you know there is a brand new week to begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But at the end, it's still the same. You're gonna sleep in the same bed at the end of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No surprises&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-7633957371246757122?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7633957371246757122/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=7633957371246757122&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/7633957371246757122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/7633957371246757122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2009/02/mondays-are-usually-full-of-lonelyness.html' title=''/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-341794215724069909</id><published>2009-01-28T01:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T02:09:03.202-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>They are days when you just weak-up in the morning without anything special to do. You make yourself a cup of tea. Mild black tea, sugar and milk. You listen to the music. Music is great. You're still looking after your daily best song ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point, your deezer smart radio is gonna broadcast The End. You didn't knew that when you woke up. At that time, the only sound was made by your roomate's heels on the woodfloor. But don't worry, you're kind of delighted. It was the song you had in mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe Deezer is a new god. He just knows what you need, and furthermore, he knows when you need it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How strange life is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's six past eleven. you're still wearing your pyj trousers and the plain white T.shirt you wore yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;It's now turn to Jefferson Airplanes! Oh What a fine day will it be!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-341794215724069909?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/341794215724069909/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=341794215724069909&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/341794215724069909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/341794215724069909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2009/01/they-are-days-when-you-just-weak-up-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-5064259744792120471</id><published>2008-08-14T11:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T11:49:57.851-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fighting away the tears</title><content type='html'>She was 17.  There was a party somewhere above the hills of the part of countryside she grew in. She wanted to go, but wasn't sure.&lt;br /&gt;17 , according to her mum, was an age of wonder.&lt;br /&gt;her friend Bea was to be at the party. So she went to for she was sure not to be alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the party started. Girls were wearring vintage dresses and hairband. Young People like to have fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few monthes later she went to the university and she left the countryside. She forgot the party, seh forgot the grass, she forgot the bad champagne she drank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was in town now. She was 18. Foolish things of the past had no more interrest for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night, she was leaving a town party she had been invited to. She was in the stairs, bethanking the host and she saw him coming into the house. It was Lindbergh. he came from the countryside too but was one year older than her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" Hey, you're from ***, he said.&lt;br /&gt;- Yes&lt;br /&gt;- Where are you going to.&lt;br /&gt;-back home; it's late&lt;br /&gt;- You don't leave there anylonger, do you ?&lt;br /&gt;- No, I leave in town. My Aunt has a small town on the upper side of the river. It's far, I don't want to miss the bus.&lt;br /&gt;- forget about the bus. i have a vespa ( and turning to his mate). Lend me your hat, I shall be back soon."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She didn't understand why he talked to her. They had been attending the same church, the same high school for years without a single word. And he picked her out. She had no will of being his girl of the night. But Lindbergh was one of the only " not-foolish-things" of her past. She agreed. 10 minutes after she was at the corner of her street ( she asked him not to let her in front of the home)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" How often do you come back home ?&lt;br /&gt;- i don't know, twice a month usually.&lt;br /&gt;- Are you going back this week end ?&lt;br /&gt;- No, the one after&lt;br /&gt;- Ok. My car will be fixed, I'll bring you back. Be ready on Friday night.&lt;br /&gt;- i'm not sure it's a good idea&lt;br /&gt;- Why ? You don't want to spare money ?&lt;br /&gt;- No... It's just that. What will people say, at home ?&lt;br /&gt;- Nothing. there will be nothing to say... What do you you study?&lt;br /&gt;- French and Art.&lt;br /&gt;- Sounds good. Are you often in the Blackmoor library ?&lt;br /&gt;- No, i go to St John.&lt;br /&gt;- God, you're in this freak place ? Are you a mormon ?&lt;br /&gt;- My parents send me there. i'm thinking of changing next year. But they wanted me to go to St John one year at least...&lt;br /&gt;- Ok, Do you know Peacock? It's in your freak neighbourhood.&lt;br /&gt;- yes, I've been there before.&lt;br /&gt;- Great. Then I meet you there, monday. When do you finish class&lt;br /&gt;- At 4.&lt;br /&gt;- We'll talk about that... Don't worry, I go church every time I back home. I have no intention to kill you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he vanished. And she walked on the way that brought her by home. Her Aunt was watching TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did you had a good evening honey ?&lt;br /&gt;- yes, I met some fellow from ***. It was nice.&lt;br /&gt;- Boy ?&lt;br /&gt;- yes, he attends our church&lt;br /&gt;- how many church do you have in *** ?&lt;br /&gt;- One."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She slept well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-5064259744792120471?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5064259744792120471/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=5064259744792120471&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/5064259744792120471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/5064259744792120471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/08/fighting-away-tears.html' title='Fighting away the tears'/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-675721430942148704</id><published>2008-08-11T14:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T14:27:50.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;"Come what may", he whispered. Whisperring was his signature, he barely talked in his everyday life. She was used to his fantaisy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She remembered him shouting once, he thought she had fall in the stairs of they rented holyday home in Greece. He told her he had been afraid as ever, and never start again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He always behave in an gentlemanlike way. he was there for her when she needs support, more than a part-time friend and more than a part-time lover.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;His hair were quite long, but not too long, dark and shinny, like perfect guys on the hairdresser's shop-windows. His mouth was incredibily light rose, that was the things she loved the more. Her eyes where plain, but it wasn't a big deal. Plain eyes can express a lot of different things. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;His hands were always holding her hands. That was the best thing. She wasn't sure he was the one, but at that precise time, he was the one she wanted to be with. Nothing elses mattered.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233374871817303538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SKCut-MgNfI/AAAAAAAAAL0/bvk3qn6aZXE/s400/reds.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When they met, it was a monday and she was listening to an old Madonna song. She always remembered the song she was listening to when something relevant happened in her life. The song was Ray of Light, one of her favorite.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was her former roomate pal. the both of them were talking about somethings she didn't catch a word, and she asked for tea. He was american and not a tea drinker. She thought he was strange, and then they started talking. And then he invited her to the cinema because he hat free tickets for a festival. And then they went to a café in the towncenter, and then theyr started seeing each other regularly and then they kissed in front of the townhall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As for now, they still weren't at the " All the good things must come to an end" part of the story, but they had time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Come what may" " Carpe Diem"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She put her head on his shoulders and remembered him shouting. She was fine. He was not to leave her like a jerk. he was his Mister Right. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-675721430942148704?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/675721430942148704/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=675721430942148704&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/675721430942148704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/675721430942148704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/08/come-what-may-he-whispered.html' title=''/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SKCut-MgNfI/AAAAAAAAAL0/bvk3qn6aZXE/s72-c/reds.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-8034671323807218449</id><published>2008-08-10T11:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T11:08:27.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've been back may times in my life.&lt;br /&gt;being back is not easy, at least for me.&lt;br /&gt;There are so many things I miss from the past. It's always the same old thing, I miss the songs we sing.&lt;br /&gt;What if I was not there, just for fun, i could vanish and fly to the moon.&lt;br /&gt;But then I will have to come back once more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teuffelkreis&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-8034671323807218449?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8034671323807218449/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=8034671323807218449&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/8034671323807218449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/8034671323807218449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/08/ive-been-back-may-times-in-my-life.html' title=''/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-5265520622797482536</id><published>2008-07-05T08:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T09:13:34.245-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.britishcouncil.org/china-aboutuk-dicover_uk-england-customs-330x254-regency_dances.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.britishcouncil.org/china-aboutuk-dicover_uk-england-customs-330x254-regency_dances.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Have you ever been to Bath before ?&lt;br /&gt;- I muss confess, it's my first time&lt;br /&gt;- There is nothing to be ashamed of. There is always a first time. I'm sure you will enjoy the delight of the season.&lt;br /&gt;- I hope so. I'm very looking forward to be delighted by everything. i've been longing to go to Bath for years, but my dad was not very kind of leaving our house. Without Lizzie and my brother in law, I don't think I would ever have come.&lt;br /&gt;- Oh really. Don't you think your husband would have bring you  there... Well, of course when you will be married. Do you... dou you... you wish to get married, one day ?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kitty was all astonishement. Mr. Grant, whom she had met only a few weeks before, was almost proposing in the middle of the pump room, while Lizzy was taken appart by an old friend of Mr. Darcy. She didn't know whaat to do, and how to act in such a situation. yet, Mr Grant was young, taller than her and had a very nice carnation. He was nice, always had something to say to her when they met in Herbforshire. But he had never clearly be flirting or courting he before.  She had seen nothing in him but a lover. And now, in Bath, after only a few days... was he jealous of Mr. Osbourn?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was desperatly looking for an answer when he said : " I'm sorry Miss Kitty, I'm afraid I've gone a little too far. Let's agree on the fact that it is commonly thought that every single girl in age to get married want to get married."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was relieved, and smiled at him while Lizzy was comming back to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Kitty, i'm afraid I have to go back to Laura's Place now, Mr. Darcy is to come back from his day out fishing. Are you coming back with me ? If ever you want to stay a little, with Mr Grant and his sister, you are totally free. Mama won't blame me for keeping you locked in your room. I'm sure that Mr. Grant won't be against taking you home later. I will make tea, we will have a lovely time and then get ready for the theater ?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;SOMETIMES I PLAY. AND WHEN I PLAY, I WRITE A SEQUEL TO PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. IT'S ALL ABOUT KITTY. SHE'S AN INTERESTING GIRL.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-5265520622797482536?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5265520622797482536/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=5265520622797482536&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/5265520622797482536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/5265520622797482536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/07/have-you-ever-been-to-bath-before-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-1425540158597069951</id><published>2008-07-01T06:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T07:02:41.885-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/collective/dnaimages/gallery/thelibertines/10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.bbc.co.uk/collective/dnaimages/gallery/thelibertines/10.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Please don't get me wrong&lt;br /&gt;See I forgive you with a song&lt;br /&gt;We'll call the Likely Lads&lt;br /&gt;But if it's left to you&lt;br /&gt;I know exactly what you'd do&lt;br /&gt;With all the dreams we had&lt;br /&gt;Cause blood runs thicker, oh&lt;br /&gt;We're thick as thieves, you know&lt;br /&gt;If it's important to you&lt;br /&gt;It's important to me&lt;br /&gt;I tried to make you see&lt;br /&gt;But you don't wanna know&lt;br /&gt;You don't want to know!&lt;br /&gt;If you pipe all summer long&lt;br /&gt;Then get forgiven in a song&lt;br /&gt;Well that's a touch, my lad&lt;br /&gt;They sold the rights to all the wrongs&lt;br /&gt;And when they knew you'd give me songs&lt;br /&gt;Welcome back, I sang&lt;br /&gt;But blood runs thicker, oh&lt;br /&gt;We're thick as thieves, you know&lt;br /&gt;If that's important to you&lt;br /&gt;It's important to me&lt;br /&gt;I tried to make you see&lt;br /&gt;But you don't wanna know&lt;br /&gt;You don't want to know&lt;br /&gt;Oh what became of the Likely Lads?&lt;br /&gt;What became of the dreams we had?&lt;br /&gt;Oh what became of forever?&lt;br /&gt;Oh what became of forever, though?&lt;br /&gt;But, we'll never know&lt;br /&gt;Please don't get me wrongS&lt;br /&gt;ee I forgive you in a song&lt;br /&gt;We call the Likely Lads&lt;br /&gt;We all bought the ones&lt;br /&gt;We taught 'em all we wrote the songs&lt;br /&gt;That's filled with dreams we have&lt;br /&gt;But blood runs thicker, oh&lt;br /&gt;We're thick as thieves, you know&lt;br /&gt;If that's important to you&lt;br /&gt;It's important to me&lt;br /&gt;I tried to make you see&lt;br /&gt;But you don't wanna know&lt;br /&gt;You don't want to know!&lt;br /&gt;Oh what became of the Likely Lads?&lt;br /&gt;What became of the dreams we had?&lt;br /&gt;Oh what became of forever?&lt;br /&gt;Oh what became of forever?&lt;br /&gt;We'll never know!&lt;br /&gt;But blood runs thicker oh we're as thick as theives you know&lt;br /&gt;if that's important to youyes it's important to me&lt;br /&gt;I tried to make you see&lt;br /&gt;but you don't want to know.&lt;br /&gt;Oh what became of the Likely Lads?&lt;br /&gt;What became of the dreams we had?&lt;br /&gt;Oh what became of forever?&lt;br /&gt;Oh what became of forever?&lt;br /&gt;We'll never know!&lt;br /&gt;The ideal girl in London from France&lt;br /&gt;Came over and left me, she left me entranced&lt;br /&gt;Now I have to get by once again on my own&lt;br /&gt;Nothing but memories&lt;br /&gt;So I remember your eyes&lt;br /&gt;their unique shade of brown&lt;br /&gt;while these blue eyes of mine they stay closed&lt;br /&gt;I kissed you goodbye on the end 109&lt;br /&gt;choked as I watched the bus go&lt;br /&gt;Choking in smoke in to your angelic soul&lt;br /&gt;Choking and smoking myself in to a hole&lt;br /&gt;Where the only way out is to sleep and to dream&lt;br /&gt;And to cry out your name&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-1425540158597069951?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1425540158597069951/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=1425540158597069951&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/1425540158597069951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/1425540158597069951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/07/please-dont-get-me-wrong-see-i-forgive.html' title=''/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-8173569353602059376</id><published>2008-06-28T11:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T11:47:59.333-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Serge Gainsbourg'/><title type='text'>Dieu est un fumeur de gitanes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;As long as I can remember, Serge Gainsbourg has always been part of my background. My mum used to listen to him, so did my dad and so did their Friends. As a child, my favorite one was L'amie cahouette, it was fresh and funny. I used do dance with my friends Vincent &amp;amp; Robin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I grew up. Then I discovered his firsts songs from the late 50's and early 60's. Then I had a big crush on Intoxicated Man and its " Je boisA trop forte doseJe voisDes éléphants rosesDes araignées sur le plastronD'mon smokingDes chauves-souris au plafondDu living-Room..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sometimes wonder if there has been a genious such as him in the last decade...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/xB9YSSUcmqM&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/xB9YSSUcmqM&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's another song I fancy, more lolita, more lollipop, sixties doowap and strawberry...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A small anxiety cup/ Une petite tasse d'anxiété&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;object height="357" width="420"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/xdco7&amp;amp;related=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/xdco7&amp;related=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="420" height="357" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wonder when I will stop to be stucked on my sixties obssession, I hope it won't be too soon!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-8173569353602059376?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8173569353602059376/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=8173569353602059376&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/8173569353602059376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/8173569353602059376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/dieu-est-un-fumeur-de-gitanes.html' title='Dieu est un fumeur de gitanes'/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-6856112803344338833</id><published>2008-06-26T23:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T00:06:13.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGSRWN10fmI/AAAAAAAAAKk/JnHGL9ct5f8/s1600-h/lastkiss0183.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216454079260425826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGSRWN10fmI/AAAAAAAAAKk/JnHGL9ct5f8/s400/lastkiss0183.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGSQack9Q0I/AAAAAAAAAKc/37gQDyRTePE/s1600-h/ConfessionsOfADangerousMind0611.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;We differ, blind and seeing, one from another, not in our senses, but in the use we make of them, in the imagination and courage with which we seek wisdom beyond the senses.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Helen Keller&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-6856112803344338833?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6856112803344338833/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=6856112803344338833&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/6856112803344338833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/6856112803344338833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/we-differ-blind-and-seeing-one-from.html' title=''/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGSRWN10fmI/AAAAAAAAAKk/JnHGL9ct5f8/s72-c/lastkiss0183.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-2105890536693564833</id><published>2008-06-26T04:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-26T04:58:08.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I was born in 1952</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KSNm9RqJm4k&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KSNm9RqJm4k&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My brother used to drive a pink cadillac and I used to listen to this kind of music&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-2105890536693564833?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2105890536693564833/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=2105890536693564833&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/2105890536693564833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/2105890536693564833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-was-born-in-1952.html' title='I was born in 1952'/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-4200716550473647761</id><published>2008-06-26T01:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-26T01:51:29.771-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='myself'/><title type='text'>barefoot in the park</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGNW4OzxRSI/AAAAAAAAAKU/VcuwUSmx_cU/s1600-h/camillenvp+045.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216108317473064226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGNW4OzxRSI/AAAAAAAAAKU/VcuwUSmx_cU/s400/camillenvp+045.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ... Is a lovely play and then a lovely movie staring Jane Fonda and Robert Redford when they were very young and very amaliable. I shall recommend it to you. It dates back the sixties&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGNWk971A6I/AAAAAAAAAKM/e0rcXbVWhC8/s1600-h/camillenvp+043.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-4200716550473647761?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4200716550473647761/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=4200716550473647761&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/4200716550473647761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/4200716550473647761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/barefoot-in-park.html' title='barefoot in the park'/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGNW4OzxRSI/AAAAAAAAAKU/VcuwUSmx_cU/s72-c/camillenvp+045.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-7195393628632459704</id><published>2008-06-24T13:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T13:29:01.036-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pride and Prejudice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jane Austen'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215544317540939074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGFV7HVVtUI/AAAAAAAAAJs/BaGvB9sgX4k/s400/pnp2_588.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215544311472524370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGFV6wuhDFI/AAAAAAAAAJc/XrPm4cnGN6Q/s400/pnp2_599.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGFW734uLwI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/mSAlmld8ZWU/s1600-h/pnp2_655.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215545430085873410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGFW734uLwI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/mSAlmld8ZWU/s400/pnp2_655.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215545428878066290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGFW7zYwgnI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/I1nGGQQbxpE/s400/pnp2_657.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGFW8O1jQ1I/AAAAAAAAAKE/lR9lfKqjgBU/s1600-h/pnp2_668.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215545436246590290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGFW8O1jQ1I/AAAAAAAAAKE/lR9lfKqjgBU/s400/pnp2_668.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGFV7CX29eI/AAAAAAAAAJk/H83rKJgCRM8/s1600-h/e6c639e4.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Her heart did whisper that he had done it for her. But it was a hope shortly checked by other considerations, and she soon felt that even her vanity was insufficient, when required to depend on his affection for her— for a woman who had already refused him— as able to overcome a sentiment so natural as abhorrence against relationship with Wickham. Brother-in-law of Wickham! Every kind of pride must revolt from the connection. He had, to be sure, done much. She was ashamed to think how much. But he had given a reason for his interference, which asked no extraordinary stretch of belief. It was reasonablethat he should feel he had been wrong; he had liberality, and he had the means of exercising it; and though she would not place herself as his principal inducement, she could, perhaps, believe that remaining partiality for her might assist his endeavours in a cause where her peace of mind must be materially concerned. It was painful, exceedingly painful, to know that they were under obligations to a person who could never receive a return.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;This is to me something like the best part of the book. Lizzie, in love at least, is in despair. Well, this is no surprising at all, she's almost sure Darcy will never look at her anymore, since of what happened between her sister and The Bad Guy of the plot. However, all good things must come to and end, and they will have their happy ending and live happily ever after. Jane Austen was everything but a scary tragic spinster, don't you think ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-7195393628632459704?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7195393628632459704/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=7195393628632459704&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/7195393628632459704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/7195393628632459704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/her-heart-did-whisper-that-he-had-done.html' title=''/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SGFV7HVVtUI/AAAAAAAAAJs/BaGvB9sgX4k/s72-c/pnp2_588.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-2176148593321500245</id><published>2008-06-24T05:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T06:07:26.454-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jamie Cullum'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Music of my day</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uEAoJPNeEgs&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uEAoJPNeEgs&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The stereophonics did make a good job covering this song. I'm not sure the first singer was Rod Stewart, but I'm not yet a music anthologist, so, please, do not mind (the gap ;D)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YJ8XLglx8HQ&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YJ8XLglx8HQ&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ahahaha, I'm back listening my old playlist. Let's sing with The Walkers Brothers. There's a cover from Keane, but since I'm not their biggest fan, I'd rather listen to the original song. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Last but not least, All at Sea, Jamie Cullum is the best! Please Michael Bublé leave me alone ( and the rest of the hearing people), go back to Canada, I heard it's lovely in the summer ;)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AudHjxKBbYM&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AudHjxKBbYM&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-2176148593321500245?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2176148593321500245/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=2176148593321500245&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/2176148593321500245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/2176148593321500245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/music-of-my-day.html' title='Music of my day'/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-8737697668635767033</id><published>2008-06-24T01:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T02:07:41.454-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Henry James'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Washington Square'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;In the hall he found Mrs. Penniman, fluttered and eager; she appeared to have been hovering there under the irreconcilable promptings of her curiosity and her dignity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;"That was a precious plan of yours!" said Morris, clapping on his hat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;"Is she so hard?" asked Mrs. Penniman.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;"She doesn't care a button for me--with her confounded little dry manner."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;"Was it very dry?" pursued Mrs. Penniman, with solicitude.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Morris took no notice of her question; he stood musing an instant, with his hat on. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;"But why the deuce, then, would she never marry?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;"Yes--why indeed?" sighed Mrs. Penniman. And then, as if from a sense of the inadequacy of this explanation, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;"But you will not despair--you will come back?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;"Come back? Damnation!" And Morris Townsend strode out of the house, leaving Mrs. Penniman staring.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Catherine, meanwhile, in the parlour, picking up her morsel of fancy work, had seated herself with it again- -for life, as it were.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.premiere.fr/var/premiere/storage/images/diaporama/jennifer-jason-leigh/washington-square-1997/2040911-1-fre-FR/washington_square_1997_reference.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;That's the point, i like unhappy ending. Especially this one. &lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Excipit of Washington Square, very well written by Henry James.&lt;/span&gt; That was years ago of course. It's not like if old things were always better, I'm not a mormon, but there is kind of a mystery thing that relies me to the Past, and to Times I would never live.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://livre.fnac.com/a1266767/Henry-James-Washington-square"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Here you will find the book&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Washington-Square-Jennifer-Jason-Leigh/dp/B000065V3V"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Here you will find the movie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-8737697668635767033?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8737697668635767033/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=8737697668635767033&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/8737697668635767033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/8737697668635767033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/in-hall-he-found-mrs.html' title=''/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-2195005760373850607</id><published>2008-06-23T14:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T14:54:11.422-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://lysao.hautetfort.com/media/01/01/62d5fd109e0405ac0cfc40211f966f33.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://lysao.hautetfort.com/media/01/01/62d5fd109e0405ac0cfc40211f966f33.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://a69.g.akamai.net/n/69/10688/v1/img5.allocine.fr/acmedia/rsz/434/x/x/x/medias/nmedia/18/35/21/29/18758946.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://a69.g.akamai.net/n/69/10688/v1/img5.allocine.fr/acmedia/rsz/434/x/x/x/medias/nmedia/18/35/21/29/18758946.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://vargen57.unblog.fr/files/2006/08/George%20Cukor%20,%20Katharine%20Hepburn%20et%20James%20Stewart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://vargen57.unblog.fr/files/2006/08/George%20Cukor%20,%20Katharine%20Hepburn%20et%20James%20Stewart.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2r9gUUf1h9M&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2r9gUUf1h9M&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;Is there anybody gone to listen to my story&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;all about the girl who came to stay?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;She's the kind of girl you want so much&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;it makes you sorry;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;Still, you don't regret a single day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;Ah girl! Girl!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;She's the kind of girl who puts you down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;when friends are there, you feel a fool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;Didididi..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;When you say she's looking good&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;she acts as if it's understood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;She's cool, cool, cool, cool,Girl! Girl! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;[Was she]When I think of all the times I've tried to leave her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;She will turn to me and start to cry;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;And she promises the earth to meand I believe her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;After all this times I don't know why.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;Ah, girl! Girl!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;She's the kind of girl who puts you down &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;when friends are there,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;You feel a fool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;When you say she's looking good, she acts as if it's understood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;She's cool, cool, cool, cool, Girl! Girl!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;Was she told when she was young the fame&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;would lead to pleasure?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;Did she understand it when they said&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;That a man must break his back to earnhis day of leisure?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;Will she still believe it when he's dead?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ah girl! Girl! Girl!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;George, Ringo, Paul or maybe John... I have never known who the hell of them is related to what song...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;But it's not like if I was to dy of influenza if ever I'm wrong, so let's play it like the fool I am and let's quote them all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-2195005760373850607?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2195005760373850607/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=2195005760373850607&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/2195005760373850607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/2195005760373850607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/is-there-anybody-gone-to-listen-to-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-2797367036443440510</id><published>2008-06-23T05:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T05:25:15.559-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise Hardy'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oVD2OdjjUPo&amp;amp;hl=fr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oVD2OdjjUPo&amp;hl=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;If we are only friends&lt;br /&gt;Why do you kiss me like you do?&lt;br /&gt;If we are only friends&lt;br /&gt;Why do you hold me all night through? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do the words "I love you"&lt;br /&gt;Never come to your mind&lt;br /&gt;Don't you know I love you?&lt;br /&gt;Or is love really blind? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And every time we dance&lt;br /&gt;When there is starlight up above&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if by chance&lt;br /&gt;You will discover this is love &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could we be as happy&lt;br /&gt;As we both seem to be?&lt;br /&gt;Could we be so happy&lt;br /&gt;For the whole world to see if we are only friends? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All evening in your arms you hold me&lt;br /&gt;'Til suddenly it's time to part&lt;br /&gt;I wonder why you always hold me&lt;br /&gt;So close to your heart &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we are only friends&lt;br /&gt;Why don't you dance with someone new&lt;br /&gt;And when the party ends&lt;br /&gt;Why do I always leave with you &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a happy ending&lt;br /&gt;But on you that depends&lt;br /&gt;And until you tell me&lt;br /&gt;I can only say &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're just very good friends&lt;br /&gt;We are only good friends&lt;br /&gt;We're still very good friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://img63.imageshack.us/img63/557/hardy7170il9.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-2797367036443440510?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2797367036443440510/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=2797367036443440510&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/2797367036443440510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/2797367036443440510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/if-we-are-only-friends-why-do-you-kiss.html' title=''/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-5711348912634659254</id><published>2008-06-23T03:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T05:29:03.258-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clara Bow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='becoming Jane'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Emma Thompson'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alan Rickman'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bill Muray'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jane Austen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kate WInslet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Keira Knightley'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='icons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='James Mc Avoy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mansfield Park'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lost in Translation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Atonement'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Audrey Hepburn'/><title type='text'>Life seems but a succession of busy nothings</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-DzH4MycI/AAAAAAAAAHM/qd8X04SkG2Y/s1600-h/ce27.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215031807829658050" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-DzH4MycI/AAAAAAAAAHM/qd8X04SkG2Y/s400/ce27.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-DzPqGQhI/AAAAAAAAAHU/TfXITgHoRp4/s1600-h/3770057.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215031809917993490" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-DzPqGQhI/AAAAAAAAAHU/TfXITgHoRp4/s400/3770057.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215031808932994706" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-DzL_QXpI/AAAAAAAAAHc/vgZrYLujL7k/s400/tetocar%C3%A9.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-KQU_PbwI/AAAAAAAAAIM/QmxaIIEC228/s1600-h/9402483.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215038906634825474" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-KQU_PbwI/AAAAAAAAAIM/QmxaIIEC228/s400/9402483.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-Dy9XZauI/AAAAAAAAAHE/e6RVGACm_-8/s1600-h/lo1.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215031805007719138" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-Dy9XZauI/AAAAAAAAAHE/e6RVGACm_-8/s400/lo1.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-Dyzs7JBI/AAAAAAAAAG8/8h_-GkH4I3k/s1600-h/160-59.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215031802413655058" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-Dyzs7JBI/AAAAAAAAAG8/8h_-GkH4I3k/s400/160-59.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-DAEons-I/AAAAAAAAAGU/R5jNta_bFAw/s1600-h/s6udld.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215030930785678306" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-DAEons-I/AAAAAAAAAGU/R5jNta_bFAw/s400/s6udld.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-Cj6ODZLI/AAAAAAAAAFs/oYDhj7zLscE/s1600-h/ss017.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215030446953555122" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-Cj6ODZLI/AAAAAAAAAFs/oYDhj7zLscE/s400/ss017.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-DAhsWMtI/AAAAAAAAAG0/uzLvrFTpj48/s1600-h/7838307.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215030938585936594" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-DAhsWMtI/AAAAAAAAAG0/uzLvrFTpj48/s400/7838307.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-DAfpjs1I/AAAAAAAAAGs/yy0wC6irapo/s1600-h/Jane5.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215030938037367634" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-DAfpjs1I/AAAAAAAAAGs/yy0wC6irapo/s400/Jane5.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-CkNlME_I/AAAAAAAAAGE/-6ee2_pzst4/s1600-h/6279296.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215030452150866930" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-CkNlME_I/AAAAAAAAAGE/-6ee2_pzst4/s400/6279296.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-CkBTSR0I/AAAAAAAAAF8/Y86DxTRuSkg/s1600-h/3493518a.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215030448854550338" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-CkBTSR0I/AAAAAAAAAF8/Y86DxTRuSkg/s400/3493518a.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-DALdQfaI/AAAAAAAAAGc/7S7yOImdLh0/s1600-h/audrey.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215030932617067938" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-DALdQfaI/AAAAAAAAAGc/7S7yOImdLh0/s400/audrey.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-DAYbDfFI/AAAAAAAAAGk/wmcYJtWTd98/s1600-h/2126607.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215030936097487954" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-DAYbDfFI/AAAAAAAAAGk/wmcYJtWTd98/s400/2126607.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-CkHDhQ7I/AAAAAAAAAGM/0N-MoKUBlgU/s1600-h/santuri.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215030450399036338" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-CkHDhQ7I/AAAAAAAAAGM/0N-MoKUBlgU/s400/santuri.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-CkCY2s3I/AAAAAAAAAF0/KOLd62iO3ow/s1600-h/ss022.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215030449146344306" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-CkCY2s3I/AAAAAAAAAF0/KOLd62iO3ow/s400/ss022.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;"I shall soon be rested," said Fanny; "to sit in the shade on a fine day, and look upon verdure, is the most perfect refreshment"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-5711348912634659254?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5711348912634659254/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=5711348912634659254&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/5711348912634659254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/5711348912634659254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/life-seems-but-succession-of-busy.html' title='Life seems but a succession of busy nothings'/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF-DzH4MycI/AAAAAAAAAHM/qd8X04SkG2Y/s72-c/ce27.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-8403441738633098823</id><published>2008-06-23T01:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T01:46:04.004-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photographies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Italie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise Hardy'/><title type='text'>Pictures of my Day #1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2047/2456603282_7ef82f173b.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2047/2456603282_7ef82f173b.jpg?v=0" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Pit van Meffe @ Flickr&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/165/384895327_7e7ac04aa0.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/165/384895327_7e7ac04aa0.jpg?v=0" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF9gH3a-c7I/AAAAAAAAAFU/0OEbpz11aQ0/s1600-h/515841021_cb83a09f92_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dolly Dimple @ Flickr&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF9gH68nE2I/AAAAAAAAAFc/e1IL8U2TLuc/s1600-h/hgfj.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF9gH_WF41I/AAAAAAAAAFk/fcUzL9EwTWo/s1600-h/sensei.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2091/2056684833_d8ae331e7f.jpg?v=0" border="0" /&gt;BostonBill @Flickr &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"Quand je repense à mes souvenirs, je revois la maison où j'ai grandi"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/24284053@N08/2432942529/"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/mhAtFDPz6bQ&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mhAtFDPz6bQ&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;It always sounds like holidays when it's in Italian&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-8403441738633098823?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8403441738633098823/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=8403441738633098823&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/8403441738633098823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/8403441738633098823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/pictures-of-my-day-1.html' title='Pictures of my Day #1'/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-8109517445209933642</id><published>2008-06-23T01:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T01:13:18.623-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='myself'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Breakfast at Tiffanys'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm afraid I forgot to tell you something&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't do mornings&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF9alrpwf-I/AAAAAAAAAE8/YITSBEWYlMU/s1600-h/image000204.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214986496937852898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF9alrpwf-I/AAAAAAAAAE8/YITSBEWYlMU/s400/image000204.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF9am6wS7_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/60ktHgrLV9g/s1600-h/image000218.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214986518171676658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF9am6wS7_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/60ktHgrLV9g/s400/image000218.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF9anuI-oWI/AAAAAAAAAFM/FV8qZpA3QRM/s1600-h/image000295.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214986531965411682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF9anuI-oWI/AAAAAAAAAFM/FV8qZpA3QRM/s400/image000295.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-8109517445209933642?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8109517445209933642/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=8109517445209933642&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/8109517445209933642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/8109517445209933642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/im-afraid-i-forgot-to-tell-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF9alrpwf-I/AAAAAAAAAE8/YITSBEWYlMU/s72-c/image000204.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-1791201522152093564</id><published>2008-06-22T12:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T00:33:31.152-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='William Shakespeare'/><title type='text'>Summer Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;Sonnet 18 &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;William Shakespeare&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?&lt;br /&gt;Thou art more lovely and more temperate:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And summer's lease hath all too short a date:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And every fair from fair sometime declines,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But thy eternal summer shall not fade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When in eternal lines to time thou growest:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So long lives this and this gives life to thee.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214789077892982162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF6nCYZl5ZI/AAAAAAAAAE0/zXqlvbVHbK4/s400/muchadoBitmap195.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-1791201522152093564?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1791201522152093564/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=1791201522152093564&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/1791201522152093564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/1791201522152093564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/summer-day.html' title='Summer Day'/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF6nCYZl5ZI/AAAAAAAAAE0/zXqlvbVHbK4/s72-c/muchadoBitmap195.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-1214796357512210248</id><published>2008-06-22T08:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T10:27:40.274-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Persuasion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jane Austen'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF5xIuaoGxI/AAAAAAAAAEE/WFLTp4wcSEs/s1600-h/Persuasion_376.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214729813254216466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF5xIuaoGxI/AAAAAAAAAEE/WFLTp4wcSEs/s400/Persuasion_376.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Poor Frederick!" said he at last. "Now he must begin all over again with somebody else. I think we must get him to Bath. Sophy must write, and beg him to come to Bath. Here are pretty girls enough, I am sure. It would be of no use to go to Uppercross again, for that other Miss Musgrove, I find, is bespoke by her cousin, the young parson. Do not you think, Miss Elliot, we had better try to get him to Bath?"&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Chapter 18, Persuasion, Jane Austen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-1214796357512210248?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1214796357512210248/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=1214796357512210248&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/1214796357512210248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/1214796357512210248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/poor-frederick-said-he-at-last.html' title=''/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF5xIuaoGxI/AAAAAAAAAEE/WFLTp4wcSEs/s72-c/Persuasion_376.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-5608919561013865660</id><published>2008-06-22T03:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T10:29:52.508-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Leaves of Grass'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='myself'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Walt Whitman'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;SPLENDOR of ended day, floating and filling me!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hour prophetic—hour resuming the past! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Inflating my throat—you, divine average!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;You, Earth and Life, till the last ray gleams, I sing. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Song at Sunset, Walt Whitman&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I just feel like a child again, going to school, learning poems, making gift for people I like. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sun is shining, No wind today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I came back from London one year ago.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There's nothing else to say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'll be mute fore the day&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214656797349412578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF4uuo-WfuI/AAAAAAAAADM/yIp86yOdjmA/s400/thevirginsuicides001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-5608919561013865660?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5608919561013865660/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=5608919561013865660&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/5608919561013865660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/5608919561013865660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/splendor-of-ended-day-floating-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF4uuo-WfuI/AAAAAAAAADM/yIp86yOdjmA/s72-c/thevirginsuicides001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901043698692417256.post-8761995085031102450</id><published>2008-06-22T02:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T02:18:18.812-07:00</updated><title type='text'>let's start with something</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF4YvERf1SI/AAAAAAAAACo/1QfVRSMEcR8/s1600-h/blackwhite2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214632615421662498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF4YvERf1SI/AAAAAAAAACo/1QfVRSMEcR8/s400/blackwhite2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF4YvCtMbAI/AAAAAAAAACw/X72s1oUYUtw/s1600-h/00350m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214632615000960002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF4YvCtMbAI/AAAAAAAAACw/X72s1oUYUtw/s400/00350m.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF4YvbjnBBI/AAAAAAAAAC4/aJFxqfVoGIg/s1600-h/302-88.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214632621671646226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF4YvbjnBBI/AAAAAAAAAC4/aJFxqfVoGIg/s400/302-88.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8901043698692417256-8761995085031102450?l=thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8761995085031102450/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8901043698692417256&amp;postID=8761995085031102450&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/8761995085031102450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8901043698692417256/posts/default/8761995085031102450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastshadowgirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/lets-start-with-something.html' title='let&apos;s start with something'/><author><name>Camille</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SLFEpgRHqJI/AAAAAAAAAMA/60P4hLHvErg/S220/315-86.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yg6sUHBtv80/SF4YvERf1SI/AAAAAAAAACo/1QfVRSMEcR8/s72-c/blackwhite2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
