4 (french) Werber, Bernard

to overcome our inner sex drive. We shake against each
other by standing mutually our umbilical cords. Beside me,
a Taoist monk did not lead off. He knows that we are
moving towards territories beautiful but dangerous.
Many times we try to catch Rose. In vain. It has already
crossed 3 Moch and joined the crowd of the dead in waits
Like her, we enter the country orange. The line the dead
stretches out of sight. Some are surprised to We always
see off our leads. What’s it that these strange visitors from
the world of life for visit the continent of the dead? Most,
however, is not interested in us.
I am looking for Rose in the crowd.
There is whole battalions of soldiers killed in alien wars,
victims of devastating epidemics, of road accident victims
in shambles. The dead, the dead, still dead, of all races
and all countries. Lepers, sentenced to death electrocuted,
the roasters red lights, of tortured political fakirs imprudent
for chronic constipation, explorers poisoned arrows in
curare, swimmers underwater that too teased the shark,
marines, of ethyl frantic and paranoid who fled their
imaginary enemies through the window of the ninth floor of
jumpers bungee which the elastic was too much of
volcanologists too curious, myopic who have not seen the
truck approaching, the presbyopia who have not seen the
ravine, of astigmatism that have not recognized the