Oui, la lecture de ses chroniques me ravit toujours. J'aime son ironie, son ton décalé et la pertinence de ses observations. Pour le plaisir, voici ce qu'on pouvait lire sous sa plume dans Le Monde du 24 mai dernier.


"Curieuse répartition des rôles au sommet de l'Etat pour défendre le plan de relance : alors que le premier ministre est reçu à Washington, le président de la République passe la soirée de mardi à Saint-Quentin. Sans doute faut-il y voir une raison linguistique. Marié à une Anglaise, François Fillon doit être capable de demander son chemin dans la langue de Shakespeare, alors que Nicolas Sarkozy est le seul à parler peuple. Il en avait fait une brillante démonstration le 17 mars devant des ouvriers d'Alstom, dans le Doubs, à l'occasion de la Semaine de la langue française. "Si y en a que ça les démange d'augmenter les impôts...", avait-il lancé à l'auditoire. Et, à propos des gens de la haute qui ont fait des études mais manquent de bon sens : "On se demande c'est à quoi ça leur a servi ?"

Ni François Mitterrand ni Valéry Giscard d'Estaing (qui avait pourtant reçu des éboueurs à l'Elysée) n'étaient capables de parler aussi clairement à ceux qui souffrent. Jacques Chirac, lui, faisait tencore les liaisonzes zentre les mots. Contrairement à VGE, cela n'a pas suffi à lui ouvrir la porte de l'Académie française, où que c'est qu'un fauteuil y a été réservé pour Nicolas Sarkozy."

no comment.

Parmis tout ce qu'il y a de bien à New York, il y a bien sûr Central Park. Que le temps soit agréable ou couvert, je trouve que c'est toujours un endroit agréable.

Histoire de faire plaisir aux plus anglophones de mes visiteurs, voilà une chanson que j'aime bien.


"The Queen & The Soldier" de Suzanne Vega

The soldier came knocking upon the queen's door
He said, "I am not fighting for you any more"
The queen knew she'd seen his face someplace before
And slowly she let him inside.

He said, "I've watched your palace up here on the hill
And I've wondered who's the woman for whom we all kill
But I am leaving tomorrow and you can do what you will
Only first I am asking you why."

Down in the long narrow hall he was led
Into her rooms with her tapestries red
And she never once took the crown from her head
She asked him there to sit down.

He said, "I see you now, and you are so very young
But I've seen more battles lost than I have battles won
And I've got this intuition, says it's all for your fun
And now will you tell me why?"

The young queen, she fixed him with an arrogant eye
She said, "You won't understand, and you may as well not try"
But her face was a child's, and he thought she would cry
But she closed herself up like a fan.

And she said, "I've swallowed a secret burning thread
It cuts me inside, and often I've bled"
He laid his hand then on top of her head
And he bowed her down to the ground.

"Tell me how hungry are you? How weak you must feel
As you are living here alone, and you are never revealed
But I won't march again on your battlefield"
And he took her to the window to see.

And the sun, it was gold, though the sky, it was gray
And she wanted more than she ever could say
But she knew how it frightened her, and she turned away
And would not look at his face again.

And he said, "I want to live as an honest man
To get all I deserve and to give all I can
And to love a young woman who I don't understand
Your highness, your ways are very strange."

But the crown, it had fallen, and she thought she would break
And she stood there, ashamed of the way her heart ached
She took him to the doorstep and she asked him to wait
She would only be a moment inside.

Out in the distance her order was heard
And the soldier was killed, still waiting for her word
And while the queen went on strangeling in the solitude she preferred
The battle continued on