harbin

Fridays, for a student in History at La Sorbonne, were sunny days and within my walibi's shirt, green collar and embroided armories, I enjoyed the rising sun of the winter, getting out of the subway station and having a Malborough, soon before the last quarter of seven ended. Boulevards were full of cars and trucks, but after the noisy hundred meters walked,  I finally get into the university street with its trees and its secret garden where our kisses would be so tender. No matter, the uniforms of the University were like fathers for us and we loved having discussions nearby their aquarium box were they were to fill their body with the smoke of the student's hords having their favorite tobaccoes slenders. Those were the times of fraternity when we shared our different ideas and added the pigments of the many civilizations to our own culture.
And Fridays, I loved espacially , for the Master would come and behind Howard's moutache and lapis eyes would give us his scribes stories, wonderful tales for young adults in love with the borders of the River Nile, the cataracts or melting blue and white Nile in Kharthoum.
And the beloved, the reverred Master would teach through three hours, the old sapience of Old or New Empire, in the same easy style. And of course, we fell in love with Nefertiti, and naturally we never forgot the blocks in the airs like in a Walt Disney picture, the jackal god opening paths in the desert or being the guardian of the pharaoes for centuries to come. From the sands of Karnak, to the village of artisans in Tell-el-Amarna, carving the golden characters in our hearts.