The other night I saw Mammoth with Depardieu . E ' called a comedy, has brought me to a fit of melancholy, probably because I have the same age as the protagonist (and they are well into retirement). I'm also pretty in the flesh (not like Depardieu, but at least as his wife). My sadness is perhaps due to the consideration that any escape from everyday life, any adventure on the road, I might like it, but I would also give the happiness that gives our hero instead. Also because I do not see us on a bike with all my books, with the computer, with my CDs and DVDs, with brushes, colors and canvas, with all armenicoli that saves me from boredom to be happy one must be simple d ' mind? Christian poor in spirit?
The movie I liked, but not for what he says. I looked rather as if flipping through a photo album : some grainy, with a pale light, others with as elusive contours taken from the bike in the race, with many more details that towering corner of the screen. Beautiful scene with a piece of motion in the right corner in the foreground and a nuanced world behind. Quadri.
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