Saturday, November 20, 2010

Malaria What Exactly Happens To The Body

(First Tier)




Getting up on the wrong foot at a time when even the early birds are still asleep, with terrible sore throat, fever and purulent nasal discharge. ..
Feeling barter his soul with a minute more sleep. But also have the presence of mind to realize that a minute of sleep is gained in fact a simple and pathetic sixty seconds.

Take his misfortune patiently. Silence its evils Loved "Go man, you can do it! "and clenched fists.
Dodging mud and speeders Beb Saâdoun to arrive in one piece at Rabta.
Having a mind numb, total indifference towards the events that may affect the future peace of the world and a daze foolproof.
Being perfect alchemy with the music and in harmony with the elements of nature.
fond of silence and frozen smiles.
Take
his duties as a Man.
Auscultate, feel, inspect, restore balances, reflect, examine, educate, (re) return of the balance sheet, present patients for appointments in emergency imaging, "sell" his patient reluctantly to get the most famous OK and draw a smile on the lips of a infant or child with leukemia.
The ecstatic innocence, suffering that flies in the space of a moment to give way to life, the carefree and peaceful joy and unalterable exist.
This smile is enjoyable for the idealist I am.
It moves me like hell. It tears me apart and brings me back to life by the omnipotence of the dentition trees off a little bit of life.

Finish the job. Complete its task. Take the way home, the weary body but the mind intoxicated.
devour a succulent dish indigestible found despite appearances. Perhaps the taste buds, were they also anesthetized by the proletariat. Only the stomach survives the assaults of all kinds of new life and calls his firm owed.

Being sought by every means that God (and technology) have to drink a coffee or debate vehemently on the issue of Middle East background Karim Hagui and modernized Marxism for the occasion and served in a bowl of golden poor asshole savagely capitalist insiders to the art of superficiality. Reply
naturally to all queries. Be at once everywhere and nowhere.
Meet his friends and acquaintances.
cure the ills of the world by pinning his hands on the wounds of the universe and spitting on the warts of the cosmos.
Enter to finish at home, one last time, when everyone is asleep, even those suspected early risers waking up too late to really be considered as such.

Undressing languidly and throw his outfit to eat the dog who does not fall silent at night and that border this home that we miss very often.
Find solitude and deep distress. Talk to angels and chanting verses which are no longer sure of the detail nor the accuracy of memories, they are evasive and dilapidated, to ward off the dark thoughts, chase the natural return the next day at a gallop and incidentally go to heaven or if we prefer to retain the divine to the night or maybe more.

wallowing in bed. Dream as you can. Dreaming of what we want. Even if one does not know what we want ...
Sleep on it. At night, as its name implies strength and advise me at night to my health.
Every Day's Work. Tomorrow is another day.
Sleeping is the only cure for sore minds.
We will be older tomorrow, it will be especially happy.
Too bad if this is not true. We will make sure to pretend.

End of story.
[L'individu se ressource dans les bras de Morphée avant de renouer avec l'histoire dans son sempiternel recommencement.]

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