"A miracle, wonder of wonders, I never thought ..." said a friend of his friend Paul, a yellow paper in his hand he waved as a talisman, a monstrance will go for the mystical, laudable as these time cowardice of all labels, brief thought of his friend Paul omitting the saving in any sip sauvignon, what about the talisman? "A miracle" reiterated the friend returned to the eyes of bliss, en route to the canonization, why not, all seats are taken ... "An unpublished Michaux ..." triumphed friend, "a letter addressed to him by a stranger whose son lost his missive that found by chance in the bottom of a dusty attic father of the dealer who sold me for a song which he made his daily life for a few months ... " Sauvignon shared, the two friends leaned on incunabula, one armed with a smile unchanging and the other a lip where the doubt to the disputed unbelief which will preserve all fawn. "Read more" suggested the friend, "Felucca valdouillée, and the misery of grapeshot pulmolisées, a jumble of laxophores (biquadrates and carbonates, the unwelded laudanum get it over with glycerine) catechu, cachoou I hate you ..." And it continued until the signing. "Have you seen the sign?" asked the incredulous and doubtful formerly michalcien expert before the eternal reconvened since this is how men are. "What signature?" barked another, "Well, the signature confirms the substance of my thoughts, dear friend, a fake, very fake "pounded as his friend Paul Moon on his toms,
" see more, signed Henry Michot, pharmacist first class in Ghent ... While a Belgian but not without real Henry Y, you follow me ... "is already lost his friend Paul to distance leaving here the other as a felucca failed.
