• Someone: Say something in French!
  • Me: Mais, vous savez, moi je ne crois pas qu'il y ait de bonne ou de mauvaise situation. Moi, si je devais résumer ma vie aujourd'hui avec vous, je dirais que c'est d'abord des rencontres, des gens qui m'ont tendu la main, peut-être à un moment où je ne pouvais pas, où j'étais seul chez moi. Et c'est assez curieux de se dire que les hasards, les rencontres forgent une destinée... Parce que quand on a le goût de la chose, quand on a le goût de la chose bien faite, le beau geste, parfois on ne trouve pas l'interlocuteur en face, je dirais, le miroir qui vous aide à avancer. Alors ce n'est pas mon cas, comme je le disais là, puisque moi au contraire, j'ai pu ; et je dis merci à la vie, je lui dis merci, je chante la vie, je danse la vie... Je ne suis qu'amour ! Et finalement, quand beaucoup de gens aujourd'hui me disent "Mais comment fais-tu pour avoir cette humanité ?", eh ben je leur réponds très simplement, je leur dis que c'est ce goût de l'amour, ce goût donc qui m'a poussé aujourd'hui à entreprendre une construction mécanique, mais demain, qui sait, peut-être seulement à me mettre au service de la communauté, à faire le don, le don de soi.

This song is from the french musical Cleopatre. It is one of my favorite song <3

To Elif : you who desire to speak french, listen it, it’s wonderful  <3

Femme D'Aujourd'Hui
Sofia Essaidi
Femme D'Aujourd'Hui
  • Sofia Essaidi - Femme D'Aujourd'Hui

자막이 없어서 대충 볼 수 밖에 없었던 프랑스 뮤지컬..ㅠㅠ 하.. 이렇게 매력적인 여주는 없을듯.. 카리스마가 아주 그냥ㄷㄷ 사실 난 이 노래 다음곡인 시저(or 세자흐:Julius Caesar)와의 듀엣곡 Tout Est Ephemere을 가장 좋아한다.. 안토니우스와 부른건 so so..


monologue d'otis (edouard baer) asterix mission cleopatre

anonymous asked:

can you share some part of Jeanne's scene? :))

Of course I can. So much happens as Mme Jeanne’s from the first time that Jamie and Claire make love in 20 years, to Claire and Fergus reuniting and so many classic lines that we love. But to go with some humor and because I can just see Cait during this scene, I’ll give you the next morning. Jamie is off to look for Young Ian, Claire is confined to her room with no clothes and is getting hungry.

Rather than go on sitting here in the nude, receiving random deputations from the outside world, I thought it time to take steps. Rising and carefully wrapping a quilt around my body, I took a few, out into the corridor. 

The upper floor seemed deserted. Aside from the room I had left, there were only two other doors up here. Glancing up, I could see unadorned rafters overhead. We were in the attic then; chances were that the other rooms here were occupied by servants, who were presumably now employed downstairs. 

I could hear faint noises drifting up the stairwell. Something else drifted up, as well— the scent of frying sausage. A loud gustatory rumble informed me that my stomach hadn’t missed this, and furthermore, that my innards considered the consumption of one peanut butter sandwich and one bowl of soup in one twenty-four-hour period a wholly inadequate level of nutrition. 

I tucked the ends of the quilt in, sarong-fashion, just above my breasts, and picking up my trailing skirts, followed the scent of food downstairs. 

The smell— and the clinking, clattering, sloshing noises of a number of people eating— were coming from a closed door on the first floor above ground level. I pushed it open, and found myself at the end of a long room equipped as a refectory. 

The table was surrounded by twenty-odd women, a few gowned for day, but most of them in a state of dishabille that made my quilt modest by comparison. A woman near the end of the table caught sight of me hovering in the doorway, and beckoned, companionably sliding over to make room for me on the end of the long bench. 

“You’ll be the new lass, aye?” she said, looking me over with interest. “You’re a wee bit older than Madame usually takes on— she likes ’em no more than five and twenty. You’re no bad at all, though,” she assured me hastily. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” 

“Good skin and a pretty face,” observed the dark-haired lady across from us, sizing me up with the detached air of one appraising horseflesh. “And nice bubbies, what I can see.” She lifted her chin slightly, peering across the table at what could be seen of my cleavage. 

“Madame doesna like us to take the kivvers off the beds,” my original acquaintance said reprovingly. “Ye should wear your shift, if ye havena something pretty to show yourself in yet.” 

“Aye, be careful with the quilt,” advised the dark-haired girl, still scrutinizing me. “Madame’ll dock your wages, an’ ye get spots on the bedclothes.” 

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