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Telling silences shared

He had spent a wonderful evening with her. A chat and much more. They knew long ago. Not really all the 400 blows, but shared some special moments. The preciousness of these things is not measured by the yardstick of what we can tell, nothing unusual there, except that one may think the strength of a strengthened relationship with moments. Rather it was their relationship, an accumulation of moments taken from the daily lives. So when they found themselves, surreptitiously returned the waterwheel glasses bus, the cohort sacrificed minutes around a table, the theory of rustling and words exchanged. Neither one nor the other could not clearly express why such moments, even if one had any use in any field whatsoever. They found out they were good together and that was enough. Until this evening. In summary, it was similar to others. Nothing new in that routine. As a habit. It came back, that's all. Again. Yet when he left home, he sensed that some of the moments that skated their common chord was not usual consistency. Thus he spoke in petto this unsettling feeling. Looking more willing these things, he noticed the strangeness of certain gestures, certain phrases, on the cruelty of some silence, then a few, very rare indeed, lasted longer than usual. It is especially these silences, this lack of words at such moments as he applied himself. He saw at least three. Maybe before they were already lurking between two sentences, this time when they appeared with a rawness that surprised. What, then, were these silences? Not that he looked for the slightest use to things experienced, but still, there had to be a reason for qu'arrivent things. Reason enough? Perhaps for reasons. And defining the term strange he realized what he had in mind. Two reasons. What binds. Intimate knowledge of each other. His tastes, his desires, his smell, his way of taking a drink and bring it to itself, two bodies who exult in a large bath of words. This eroticism had appeared long before this evening, but he never acquired the dough, this reality. The coiled rope, is shortened too much twist, coiled around itself, clung to every moment, for these crumbs in square brackets and bumps, holes and bumps, a landscape that itself was born in great vacuum of between-them-two. The existing space before them and asked only to fill them. And he expressed this strange idea after all love is perhaps a peculiarity of the space that ... So that was it. Everything was empty of love. And he dared not think. Saying he was never good to say love between two hemispheres. That it was between four eyes. Tomorrow. He would see tomorrow. To be sure.

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This morning, I did not find lib in my mailbox. Not that I gave up my subscription, but more simply, and as I suspected at the mere sight of this absence, the trustee of the book was strike. Widely criticized, that trustee is not doing less important work in the newspaper world. It is a landmark, a terminal, which allows you to see where is the press and, more generally, the publishing world. But I did not talk about him. I discovered my liberal daily in a pdf format of a good quality of genuine, and through my connection Numéricable I spent over a quarter of an hour dreaming before the cover page of the site. I do evoke a so-said-in-passing in a way. That's what I read in liberal who pushed me in spite me to run my word processor. Something happened in the fifth arrondissement of Paris and is happening all over France. Because it seems to me that we touch the heart of politics. And for once M'sieur Joffrin has evoked.

an old problem. An enigma, something not really solved. The difference between what is legal and what is legitimate. When we define the two terms, we see immediately that this is not the same thing. Do as Ponge and open our Littre: Legal, Latin Legal, which is prescribed by law; Self, Latin legitimus, which has a character legislation. One is written, the other not. One defines the power, the other Authority. The first is bounded, the second is induced. On the one hand we are in the world of recording, in the second in the world of relationship. And this is the second world politics. The policy is not law, is the world of the relationship that this legislation allows. What is first thing in politics is what reads, not what governs. The world of law is a frozen world (to please the lawyers say I set), a world of the Letter. And what is the letter of the law, what is legitimate. The letter from the Letter is the difference between law enforcement and zeal in its enforcement. Fundamentalism, bureaucracy, or their extreme forms such as Soviet communism or Nazism, destroy the letter of the Letter, fetishizing law. The son of a bitch who diligently apply Regulation X or Y, or sticks to the law as written, feels legitimate in its action in some cases, such as law or has no letter . The current legislative mismanagement has destroyed as a result of the letter for letter and replace what is political by the administration. In my rereading I see that I'm about to fall into a trap. This is not a dyadic relationship (vi, I said) but on three. All this is enabled by social relations. It is through this that we are at a moment in the history of our society that this little fascist peak is reached. I say little because it is only the beginning.

And I tell myself that there was something wrong for not knowing where we stand. In the triad you where you would put the three Zouaves? Personally I see a Society / Law / Policy, but it is only my ☺