Voilà c'est officiel cette fois - ci ! A tous de bonnes vacances !


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  • Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
    Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
    Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
    Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. 

    Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
    Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
    Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
    Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. 

    He was my North, my South, my East and West,
    My working week and my Sunday rest,
    My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
    I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

    The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
    Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
    Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
    For nothing now can ever come to any good.

    Y a pas à dire rien ne peut égaler la langue anglaise ... petite nourriture céleste ...  à déguster ...


    All the World's a Stage

    All the world's a stage,
    And all the men and women merely players;
    They have their exits and their entrances,
    And one man in his time plays many parts,
    His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
    Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
    Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
    And shining morning face, creeping like snail
    Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
    Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
    Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
    Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
    Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
    Seeking the bubble reputation
    Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
    In fair round belly with good capon lined,
    With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
    Full of wise saws and modern instances;
    And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
    Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
    With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
    His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
    For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
    Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
    And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
    That ends this strange eventful history,
    Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
    Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. 

    William Shakespeare

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  • Juste parce que ça me repose les tympans en cette fin d'année bruyante et fatigante ....

    un vrai petit bijou à écouter encore et encore .... du moins c'est mon avis !!!

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  • Voici tout un petit dossier sur la bicyclette ...



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    Petit personnage plutôt avenant...Afin de fêter le nouvel an chinois, nous allons nous promener en Chine pendant quelques temps... je mettrai ici les activités que je compte mener lors de ce projet:

    Arts Visuels :

    Apprendre à écrire en chinois son prénom :


    Super petit livret !


    Mon documentaire sur le nouvel an chinois : CLIC

    - un texte de lecture /un planisphère / des coloriages / des reproductions de quadrillages


    6 commentaires

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