Among the eternal species/Michel Houellebecq
There had indeed been something in this person, as far as he could remember, which could arouse affection, and even the existence of “his loved ones”; something that did not exist in Houellebecq’s home, and neither in his case: a kind of familiarity with life. In this indirect way, as it were by cross-checking, Jed became aware that he had just turned sixty. Surprisingly, he wasn’t aware that he had aged so much. We become aware of our aging through relationships with others and their lives. One always tends to see oneself among the eternal species. To be sure, his hair had turned white. His face had become wrinkled. But all this had been done gradually, without anything directly confronting him with the images of his youth. This incongruity struck him.
A permanent miracle/ Jean Genève Schubert
As usual, the gendarmes are overwhelmed. It’s a rat race up to the roundabout. The avenue is now clear, but not for long. We must zigzag, avoid holes, spare stray dogs, vendors on the side of the streets, distracted drivers, and vehicle wrecks. Gaily painted tap-taps enhance with colors the route. The traffic jam worsened at the entrance to Delmas, a popular district. Bottleneck. Gridlock. Dog bed. No traffic lights. The few remaining ones hang like bats from pylons. A cop moves like a disjointed semaphore. Drivers ignore him. Run for your life. The law of the strongest or most reckless prevails as the vital principle—a permanent miracle.
