He stood up and screamed.. Raise your hands people..pray.. Drummers and flutists, leave the drums and flutes and wine and look upon the soul of the martyr that is lightening the darkness of this country.. towards God.. He shed his own blood on the soil and frightened the enemy with his hands..They have demolished our house with my sister inside it..what have you told me, mother..I see men running... they are females excuse me ladies.. they are gay.. My cousin was crucified and tortured. But I see him laughing and looking at the horizon..No I'm not crying mother tears are unhelpful..My condolences mother I hear them calling your name.. I'm coming to you..from the north to the south..I had passed by sinful dogs..I have passed by <<chaikh>> that had scars of shame, nearby a girl with feelings.. I have passed by Hyena who runs at sunset carryind news about a fearful lion...
Imaginez...
Vous roulez en pleine nuit avec votre meilleur ami, tous feux éteints.
Devant vous, un champ d'éoliennes désert.
Soudain le choc, d'une violence inouïe. Un corps ...
Angleterre, 1939. Sally Turner, 16 ans, s'occupe seule de son frère Ernie, 6 ans, atteint de polio. Leur mère, l'inconséquente Florrie, les a abandonnés dès que la guerre a éclaté, tandis que ...
Sous la forme d'une lettre posthume à son grand-père, Delphine Minoui, journaliste franco-iranienne, raconte ses années passées à Téhéran, de 1997 à 2009. Elle porte un regard neuf sur son pays ...