TavrinLamora

 Volunteers Facing Dilemmas Date unknown Whether in a deserted train station, desperately waiting for Beatrice to show up, a perforated percolator under my arm, or in a dark cave where I was selecting the wine that would be served with the pasta puttanesca, or trapped inside an elevator, or even in a house in flames, I have often reflected upon this: Is a dilemma better than no choice at all? Dilemma here is a word which means ''Very difficult choice between two different things''. For example, choosing between throwing a sugar pot in the cold water of a river or keeping it hidden in your coat can be a dilemma, especially if you have a gun

A nightstand covered with blue velvet. On it stands a lamp. It is unplugged, but the red light bulb in it is lit. A feminine hand is bathed in the light, lying on the soft fabric. It is completely motionless. On the palm, a green tape recorder is playing. Voice from the tape recorder : Diane. I am holding in my hand a cup of solid black coffee. I don't know what time it is and time may very well be completely different, here. Sorry about that. I am trapped inside a set of rooms called ''The black lodge''. I have no idea if this message can get through, but I have no other option at the time other than this. If my plan succeeds, this message

Interlude : Verde Foresta e Disperazione ________________________________________ A forest. Seven years after the schism. __ The main problem with promises is that, if you sincerely make them, you can't help but feel bad when you break them. Not doing what you say is not always good, but it's alright when compared to the act of breaking a promise. I have had a life full of intrigues and perils, and most of the time both of them at the same time. This had left me facing plenty of situations in which promises were broken. Either by me, by an infamous unibrowed character, or by lots of altogether different people, some of them I would never

Ils étaient assis au bord du monde, leurs jambes pendant au-dessus de l'abîme et, plus bas, de la tête d'une majestueuse tortue. Il y avait là un maje, un flic, une sorcière, un patricien et un orang-outan. Et, enfin, une personnification anthropomorphique. L'homme du Guet parla le premier. "Alors, qu'est-ce qu'on fait?", demanda-t-il, un cigare se consumant entre ses doigts. Le maje serra le poing autour de son chapeau, le regard perdu dans la dimension supérieure qui abrite tous les regards perdus. La sorcière tenta un grognement, mais celui-ci manquait clairement de conviction. L'orang-outan débar

A few years after the end of the Universe. Scene I : A carpet, a lamp, an old wooden clock in the middle of nowhere. Chalk marks all around on the floor. A man is sitting in an armchair. He is holding a piece of chalk. _ It's been years. Years of a lifetime dedicated to sitting in that armchair, waiting for something to happen.   The lamp beside me is the only source of light. The sun is now extinct. It's been five years since it expired a warm last breath.   Time is gone, but the clock still works, the hands allowing me to mark each virtual day as it ends. Why me? - Scene II : A carpet, a lamp, an old wooden clock in the middle of no

A few years after the end of the Universe. Scene I : A carpet, a lamp, an old wooden clock in the middle of nowhere. Chalk marks all around on the floor. A man is sitting in an armchair. He is holding a piece of chalk. _ It's been years. Years of a lifetime dedicated to sitting in that armchair, waiting for something to happen.   The lamp beside me is the only source of light. The sun is now extinct. It's been five years since it expired a warm last breath.   Time is gone, but the clock still works, the hands allowing me to mark each virtual day as it ends. Why me? - Scene II : A carpet, a lamp, an old wooden clock in the middle

Three : Various Fedoras for Disguise A sober-looking office - Three years after the Schism Mr. Poe's hand was trembling over the paperwork, as he was considering the signature at the bottom of the letter at the top of the pile of documents. He swallowed his saliva in a nervous gulp and lit a match. Once the letter had been entirely consumed by fire, as too many houses around him had already been, he sat at his desk and took hold of a collection of recent photographs of a man wearing different types of hats in different positions. In most of the photographs, the man turned his back to the camera. In the last of them, however, the face was

Last chapters : written on 7th May 2015. _______________________________________________ Chapter 41 : All is weird that ends well _______________________________________________ There was a robot and one single Universe left. There was a man from Earth and a woman from Earth. There was Zaphod and there was Ford. There was Slartibartfast and a fjord. The robot looked at the sky and said: ''He was right.''. ''Who was, Marvin?'', Trillian asked, as Arthur was lying on the grass before his house, a cup of steaming tea next to him. ''The Keeper of the After-sale Service of the soul. He was right. This is... good. What he said was the best

Chapter 32 : A feeling of trouble _______________________________________ Arthur Dent woke up and opened his eyes. When the first thing in the day that one sees is a stain of moisture on a dirty ceiling, one has the right to feel miserable. Arthur didn't see any stain of moisture when he opened his eyes. What he saw was a blue sky and the sun. You might think that one has the right to feel happy when one's first sight of the morning is a blue sky. However, if Arthur felt happiness, he felt it only for a short period of time. The first sound that he heard was that of a bulldozer demolishing his house a few dozens of meters from his head. ''

Chapter 22 : Headless Hero __________________________________ The only known cure for having your head cut off is having a spare head. It's something french sovereign failed to grasp during the eighteenth century. Zaphod Beeblebrox had a spare head. But it did nothing to comfort him. Because Zaphod did not want to lose any head, which was quite understandable. _ ''Resistance is useless!'', the vogon guard shouted. ''Resistance is useless!'', another vogon guard shouted. ''Oh, hello, Zwapoon.'', he added, as he was emerging from the corner of the corridor. ''Hello, colleague!'', the other one shouted. ''Hello, Ford. Hello, old man. Hello