12/9/2023 0 Comments Arch pics with panties halfwayHe’s wearing a leather jacket, a shirt, and a T-shirt. ![]() Neither shrinking away nor striking a pose, he has the expression of a man who travels by night. His bald head is radiant, his skull capacious, and the black hair at his temples resembles nothing so much as the laurel leaves that used to wreathe the heads of victorious Roman generals. He’s also the handsomest man in the group. Guyotat, that is, Pierre Guyotat, born in 1940, the author of “Tombeau pour Cinq Cent Mille Soldats,” “Éden, Éden, Éden,” and “Prostitution.” Guyotat is bald. Thanks to the slight leftward turn of her face, a pearl can be seen suspended from her ear, like a stray satellite. Her hair is straight and long, with a center part, light brown in color, or perhaps honey blond. Henric isn’t, either, actually, but his neck is short (he barely has one at all), while Marie-Thérèse Réveillé, by contrast, has a neck that is long and entirely revealed by the dark garment she is wearing. Marie-Thérèse, then, is the first person so far not to be wearing a turtleneck sweater. Hers is the only smile that allows us a glimpse of teeth.īeside la Kristeva is M.-Th. Except that her breasts, it seems, are larger than those of the average Vietnamese woman. At first glance she could almost be Vietnamese. She’s wearing a turtleneck sweater, which is very close-fitting, though the collar is loose, and a long V-shaped necklace that accentuates the form of her torso. Her eyes are dark and lively, as lively as those of Sollers, although there are differences: in addition to being larger, they transmit a certain hospitable warmth (that is, a certain serenity) which is absent from her husband’s eyes. She is the author of “La Traversée des Signes,” “Pouvoirs de l’Horreur,” and “Le Langage, Cet Inconnu.” She’s slim, with prominent cheekbones, black hair parted in the middle and gathered into a bun at the back. Kristeva, Julia Kristeva, the Bulgarian semiologist, his wife. He’s the only one who’s smoking.īeside Sollers is J. Over the sweater Sollers is wearing a garment that appears at first glance to be a dark-colored leather jacket, though it could be made of a lighter material, possibly suède. ![]() Like J.-J., he’s wearing a turtleneck sweater, though the sweater that Sollers is wearing is white, dazzlingly white, while J.-J.’s is probably yellow or light green. His eyes, which are much livelier than those of Henric or J.-J., and smaller, too, remain fixed on the camera, and the bags underneath them help to give his round face a look that is at once preoccupied, perky, and playful. An ironic, intelligent smile is hovering about his lips. It would be an exaggeration to say that it’s the face of a fat man, but it probably will be in a few years’ time: it’s the face of a man who enjoys a good meal. Sollers has his arms crossed, the left arm resting on the surface of the table, the right arm resting on the left (and his right hand indolently cupping the elbow of his left arm). Sollers, Philippe Sollers, born in 1936, the editor of Tel Quel, author of “Drame,” “Nombres,” and “Paradis,” a public figure familiar to everyone. He’s wearing a turtleneck sweater and a dark leather jacket.īeside J.-J. The line of his jaw is symmetrical and his lips are full, the lower lip slightly thicker than the upper. There’s nothing especially attractive about his features (although, compared with Henric, he looks not only more handsome but also more intelligent). He’s probably called Jean-Jacques, but in this story, for the sake of convenience, I’ll continue to use his initials. The photo was probably taken in 1977 or thereabouts. In front of them, or rather between them and the photographer (and this is slightly strange), there are three plants-a rhododendron, a ficus, and an everlasting-rising from a planter, which may serve, but this is speculation, as a barrier between two distinct sections of the café. In other words, no one is facing away from the camera. ![]() The eight people who appear in the photo, who are posing for the photo, are fanned out around one side of the table in a crescent or a kind of opened-out horseshoe, so that each of them can be seen clearly and completely. Let’s suppose, for the moment, that it’s in a café. The table is a table that is large enough to seat the above-mentioned individuals and it’s in a café. It’s an ordinary table, made of wood, perhaps, or plastic, it could even be a marble table on metal legs, but nothing could be less germane to my purpose than to give an exhaustive description of it. ![]() They are captioned, from left to right: J.
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