Palafox Read Online Free

nod their heads. They are in agreement as far as this goes - free, Palafox lived a nocturnal existence. He lived in a hollow trunk. All day he remained there, immobile, unbudgeable, eyes stitched shut, impenetrable. At dusk, he exited his dugout canoe and went to work, punctual night watchman, guardian of nature’s order, he detected the vole ferreting about, like a fire starting among the crops. Taken one by one, the vole is the gentlest, the most delicate of beings, it arouses deep emotion and the desire within us to contaminate it with some mortal illness of which we will use every care we can muster to cure him. Two voles look almost identical. Three, lassitude sets in. Four eat like ten. Ten in a field closes a mill. One more and the country runs the risk of ruin, begging assistance from a neighboring state which in return for its help demands the return of a mountainous province, wooded, skiable, conquered by armed forces, then consents to the transportation of the supplies, supplies being powdered milk and radish-greens. Were it not for Palafox’s vigilance, his tireless rounds, his heavy but silent flight, since feathers and darkness ignore each other, brush against each other, want to avoid a scene, without his nyctaloptic angel’s eye, his watchmaker’s claws and beak hard at their task, without Palafox we would shiver with hunger, submitting to the humiliating generosity of the enemy that Chancelade at this very moment is tearing to pieces, if all goes as planned.

    We have been living under high Palafoxian security most likely for a long time. The Museum has twenty thousand volic crania bequeathed to it by the artist, a collector who made his children pay dearly for their indifference. And yet the oldest of these skulls go back to the belle époque that precedes the first ice age. Thus, concludes Baruglio, by deduction, do we derive information on the probable age of Palafox. Baruglio concludes perhaps a bit too quickly, because nothing allows us to affirm that he had not survived by eating roots and wild fruits until the appearance of the vole. Nor would there have been life here, insists Zeiger, if each species had not been formed until its ideal prey had been fat and numerous enough to nourish it, if the mongoose had awaited the serpent, the serpent the toad, the toad the fly, if the fly had awaited us, etc., but man did not wait for the grocer to open his shop before spreading, he took the initiative. Similarly, not unreasonably, Palafox. Unless his appearance came after that of the vole. It might, what’s more - Zeiger exaggerates, to make sure the point is made - be that not one of the twenty thousand skulls in our possession was cleaned and spit out by Palafox. The vole doesn’t fare well in low temperatures. It constitutes the everyday fare of weasels, foxes, and wild cats. If it falls in water, it goes straight to the bottom. Plague, fire, famines never spare it. Finally, three or four years on, it is only a shadow of itself, it has no taste for living, you wouldn’t even recognize it, it dies from its pretty death. From there, conversation reaches an impasse, only a single step away-a step we will not take. We’re just hitting our heads against the wall, observed Pierpont. For the moment, let’s leave the question of dating aside. We’ll return to it, rest assured. Another point that remains to be clarified: Palafox and sex, which is to say which sex is Palafox? Does he have an organ, if yes where, if not what?
    If not, then it’s definitive: I’ve suspected it from the start - Palafox is a starfish. Cambrelin leads the charge. Essentially, starfish, like Palafox, present an axial symmetry reticulated in five and that carmine color which would so delight us, Maureen, if you were to change the water in the tank from time to time. We usually call them starfish, however imprecise and hard to grasp a term it may be. Another common feature, starfish are also weak-willed. Their bodies, tugged at by