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Jewish Memories. Berkeley: University of California Press, c At the end of the s, the authors undertook to interview and collect the life stories of Jews living in France but born in other distant lands.

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A sander, a drill, a power saw. A laser, a heat gun, a flaming torch. Nothing cuts through the bangle. Nothing I conjure even makes a scratch.

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Childhood lived in poverty, a "happy poverty. Across from the boys' high school, you see the Rue de France? I wasn't comfortable with him around. My grandmother would cook for weddings, communions, baptisms. In those days, girls were married off very young. The younger one, the. As far back as her family memories go—to about —their material circumstances were hard: they worked and lived in poverty, and they died young.

She stayed.

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A sander, a drill, a power saw. Poor Sex, she had a tough time. He had his bed in our nqughty. They come from communities that were in turn diverse and counted several million people before the second war.

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The children were dressed, ready to leave. At that time, there was no paper seller, no grocery, no bakery in the neighborhood. There were two stories. A carpenter had put a notice on his door that he was looking for an apprentice—he didn't want a worker.

She spends her day playing in the courtyard with her little neighbors. Seeing me in a panic, she said to me: "Don't worry, it'll be fine. So, on the one hand, he takes care of that, and, on the other. They were two-story houses.

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Such memories of an intense, hectic life, devoted to taking care of one another, feeding children you didn't bring into the world: many other women share them as well. My bedroom being last, Mina taps her nail against her phone and shrugs. They said to their wives: "Just because Madame So-and-So invited forty people, you have to invite sixty? He'd find me standing around, and chatting with the neighbors: "Why are you there?

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Recounted "by heart," as the saying goes, the narratives we have gathered are the vehicles of a collective memory for which good and bad events of the past have meaning precisely because they form part of a shared experience. Her husband was a house-painter—in whitewash, of course; oil was for doors and windows—and he was also a glazier.

This representative came to me and I told him: "Nobody asked for financing. We went to Moda: like Enghien, you might say, only nicer. Her trip to Paris had turned into a journey into the past. She had two boys. Across from the boys' high school, you see the Rue de France?

He had a water skin on his shoulder.

Listen . . .

It takes some effort, but this time the boys take the name of the aunt who takes them in. The young couple occupies "a large, long room" on the first floor of the house. What distinguishes their approach from that of people who recall their past is that both the historian and the ethnologist aspire more or less explicitly to thoroughness and objectivity.

That meant you were in contact with high-class people in that hole. And naughty the father of Simone, my cousin, was in banking, he also chose to take lalla job with his father-in-law. For example, at that time, there weren't any pipes, there wasn't any water. But him [my father], what did he come up with? Now I can actually grant wishes.

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There was a woman who took care of the household, and I took care of the. And the light was incredible! Down there, every one had five, six pals. She made mhamos [a kind of semolina ] and other things for them. Ah yes! They were my parents' neighbors. The young couple occupies "a large, long room" on the lalla floor of the house. When her brothers and sisters started growing up, she sent the boys to learn a trade. She receives us in her home, in a pink housecoat; she wears makeup, her hair is styled and dyed blond.

Now I understood and you're going to pay him everything I paid you for him and I never want to hear from you again. You want me to tell you about the receptions? Every time he asked them to increase his pension, they refused. Indeed, the French version of the book followed paths similar to those of the wandering people it presents, and became itself part of shared memories.

But the memories of grandeur arise mostly from the big house in which all of life's dramas were played out, from the patio teeming with noise and activity: abundance prevailed, men and animals abounded, including an entire population of white and black servants, clients, craftsmen, and artisans who worked for the family; visitors and relatives bustled about. In the end, we just couldn't manage anymore. Georgette : No, he lived in our house. We're Spaniards!

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Nothing I conjure even makes a scratch. Maybe, no kidding, it was in summer, nine, ten o'clock! That meant you were in contact with high-class people in that hole. Alice B. What made it special was that Tripoli had lallz Turkish, but it couldn't remain Turkish because everybody was out colonizing. Digital administration: autonomy at the push of a button Laila places her own empty glass on the table.

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Hence, the bibliography to be found in some of the notes is deliberately brief. But the war of broke out; he wound up at the front, was wounded and disabled.

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Georgette : In our apartment. About 10 orhe got into bed and said Shema Israel Adonai " [ the profession of faith ]. Daniel, Jacky, they don't have any pals anymore. Then we came to Kheidar Pasha. You know that Saturday light.

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She discovered her Jewish identity during a trip to Poland in with her mother. Nobody wanted them. And that went on until noon, with conversations you can just imagine: this one and that one, what she did, what she said. We wanted this complicity and empathy that bound us to the narrators. That was another suburb, like Enghien, for example, where there was fresh air.

Meanwhile I myself had already seen the head of the cabinet, who went nuts over the project and said to me: "Why, all that's very nice, but he won't understand, I have to explain it to him [ he was speaking of the minister ]. When the same persons indicate their subsequent move into Westernstyle apartments, they feel no need to describe them, since they continue to live in a similar environment, whereas the Arab house belongs to the past and is no longer familiar. She wasn't adopted, not naughty. In introducing ourselves, without even saying so explicitly, we proposed, accepted, and concluded a contract with our interlocutors, according to which they expected us to listen to their words in order to put them into the s of a book, since it was our profession to write books.

And I was pregnant.

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Samara claps. The tone of his voice, his gestures, the expressions of his face, everything is lost except for the. Then, we stayed like that. My mother had tons of lady friends who received, one the first Monday of the month, another the third Wednesday, one the fourth Thursday. To draw your self-portrait is to expose your identity. So I left in February or March ; a few months later, it's the infamous war of ' On January 25, a Sunday morning, my husband went out to buy his paper.

Tabbie P2P chat powered by the web What? The boy would be lost. I had some money in Switzerland, which I declared confidentially at the bank.

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In the meantime, since my oldest brother finished school, he gave him the import branch; that is, he gave the representation of Belgian metallurgical factories, still in his [ the father's ] name, David N. I was little, so she took me with her. The Lyonnaise des Eaux was interested in the deal. She had regular customers: rich people had their laundry done only twice a year; it took her at least two or three weeks to finish.

Arrested in Barcelona by the Stalinists, he was back in France in They are in Constantine, in a house with a central courtyard that is home to forty families.

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The cat ate it! Julien, whom Marx would have characterized as a "professional conspirator" and who has been knocking around since he was eighteen, never received us in his home. Further on, we shall encounter " tsia Bergana ," p. For married women, it was an obligation!