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	<title>Between the lines</title>
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	<link>http://clarinetteblog.net</link>
	<description>Where the true meanings are hiding</description>
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		<title>Breaking waves</title>
		<link>http://clarinetteblog.net/2012/05/breaking-waves/</link>
		<comments>http://clarinetteblog.net/2012/05/breaking-waves/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Apr 2012 22:29:28 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>clarinette</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Life]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://clarinetteblog.net/?p=830</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I needed sunshine, I needed a sea, and I needed silence. So I left everything back in Paris, packed my bags and got in the plane. I had to get away from it all. My work, my messy apartment with the painter in it, my stress about the moving, my fears of the future, and [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Partir, c&#8217;est mourir un peu &#8230;</title>
		<link>http://clarinetteblog.net/2012/04/partir-cest-mourir-un-peu/</link>
		<comments>http://clarinetteblog.net/2012/04/partir-cest-mourir-un-peu/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 26 Apr 2012 18:41:18 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>clarinette</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Life]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://clarinetteblog.net/?p=823</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Rondel de l&#8217;adieu (Edmond Haraucourt) Partir, c&#8217;est mourir un peu, C&#8217;est mourir à ce qu&#8217;on aime : On laisse un peu de soi-même En toute heure et dans tout lieu. C&#8217;est toujours le deuil d&#8217;un vœu, Le dernier vers d&#8217;un poème ; Partir, c&#8217;est mourir un peu. Et l&#8217;on part, et c&#8217;est un jeu, Et [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Rib it up</title>
		<link>http://clarinetteblog.net/2012/04/ribitup/</link>
		<comments>http://clarinetteblog.net/2012/04/ribitup/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 18 Apr 2012 21:40:11 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>clarinette</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Life]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://clarinetteblog.net/?p=797</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[My mom has some strong beliefs on very specific topics that she likes to impose on us as much as she can. One of them is that according to her, metallic-wired bras can provoke breast cancer. So, she has always discouraged me of using them &#8230; let&#8217;s not even talk about wonder-bras and push-up bras! [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Shadows on the sidewalks</title>
		<link>http://clarinetteblog.net/2012/04/shadows-on-the-sidewalks/</link>
		<comments>http://clarinetteblog.net/2012/04/shadows-on-the-sidewalks/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 18 Apr 2012 20:08:32 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>clarinette</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[paris]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://clarinetteblog.net/?p=791</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[It&#8217;s midnight and I am waiting at the bus station in one of the most eventful squares in Paris; near Pigalle if that rings a bell. It&#8217;s Saturday night and the streets are boiling with people of all sorts. Some like me are going home after a nice dinner with friends, some are out to [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Isolated thoughts</title>
		<link>http://clarinetteblog.net/2012/03/isolated-thoughts/</link>
		<comments>http://clarinetteblog.net/2012/03/isolated-thoughts/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 10 Mar 2012 22:49:37 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>clarinette</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[thoughts]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://clarinetteblog.net/?p=776</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Now that I am here writing these lines, I could have been to a birthday party. I imagine myself putting my makeup, choose a little skirt and put on my new pair of shoes. Then jump in the metro and get to this very happening bar on the other side of Paris. Once there, I [...]]]></description>
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		<title>crazy, foolish, &#8230; Love.</title>
		<link>http://clarinetteblog.net/2012/02/crazy-foolish-love/</link>
		<comments>http://clarinetteblog.net/2012/02/crazy-foolish-love/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 14 Feb 2012 00:38:37 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>clarinette</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[memories]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://clarinetteblog.net/?p=744</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I am watching the cheesiest program on TV that could ever exist. It is the eve of the Valentine&#8217;s day and some genius producer has decided to suffocate us for two hours with the most horrible love songs ever made. The songs are intermitted by the philosophical inputs from a bunch of TV celebrities. &#8220;If you [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
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		<title>A day like any other</title>
		<link>http://clarinetteblog.net/2012/01/a-day-like-any-other/</link>
		<comments>http://clarinetteblog.net/2012/01/a-day-like-any-other/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 18 Jan 2012 23:42:52 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>clarinette</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Life]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://clarinetteblog.net/?p=730</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[He asks me whether I was born in France or in Iran. &#8220;Iran&#8221;, I reply dreading what is coming afterwards. Then, he adds: &#8220;In Tehran?&#8221;. I confirm. He smiles, proud to have guessed correctly, not knowing that he had  a chance of 1 in 7 to be correct. I wonder what kind of a city [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Those Portuguese eyes</title>
		<link>http://clarinetteblog.net/2012/01/those-portuguese-eyes/</link>
		<comments>http://clarinetteblog.net/2012/01/those-portuguese-eyes/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 09 Jan 2012 00:19:04 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>clarinette</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[paris]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://clarinetteblog.net/?p=705</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[It&#8217;s around midnight. I get into the metro and take a seat. I am so tired that I lean my head on the wall and close my eyes. I have about ten minutes to go. I can feel my veins pulsing in my boots. My feet are tired, I can&#8217;t wait to be in my [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Santa, bring me a bike</title>
		<link>http://clarinetteblog.net/2011/12/santa-bring-me-a-bike/</link>
		<comments>http://clarinetteblog.net/2011/12/santa-bring-me-a-bike/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 31 Dec 2011 18:09:37 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>clarinette</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[memories]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://clarinetteblog.net/?p=692</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Each year there is one Christmas card that stands out from the other cards on my desk. It is the one sent by my English friend. Every year along with her greeting card, she includes a one-page summary of the highlights of her life during the past year: &#8220;I got married, our baby is now [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Night thoughts</title>
		<link>http://clarinetteblog.net/2011/12/night-thoughts/</link>
		<comments>http://clarinetteblog.net/2011/12/night-thoughts/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 22 Dec 2011 02:31:36 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>clarinette</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[thoughts]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://clarinetteblog.net/?p=683</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[It&#8217;s hopeless. Once again there is no way I can fall asleep. I turn in my bed and look at the clock. It is 2:00 am. I decide to get up and do something. There is no use in staying in bed. I make myself a camomile tea. Camomile is supposed to sooth and help [...]]]></description>
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