nsaastro.blogg.se

You die lying down, or with your head in the oven, or in the bathtub. I’ll die standing here at the sink, she thought, then corrected herself. I’m going to turn into a fountain of tears, a fountain of blood, a fountain of sighs. She grabbed a dishcloth and pressed it on the cut. There are plenty of reasons, and this one is as good as any. Leaning against the sink, she began to cry. She looked at her blue veins, the red streak, the white sink, the yellow plastic colander where the peeled white potatoes lay glistening. The blade had slipped on the potato and cut a long gash into her wrist. Joséphine gasped and dropped the vegetable peeler. She lived in new York City from 1980 to 1990 and has published two sequels to The Yel­low Eyes of Crocodiles: La Valse lente des tortues (2008) and Les Écureuils de Central Park sont tristes le lundi (2010). Katherine was born in Morocco, grew up in France, taught school in Switzerland, and worked as a journalist at Paris-Match. To date, it has sold some 2.4 million copies in thirty languages. The Yellow Eyes of Crocodiles was a huge success in France, where it won the prix de Maison de la presse for best novel of the year. Katherine Pancol is one of France’s best known contempo­rary authors. Translation copyright © 2013 by William Rodarmor and Helen Dickinson ***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected proof.***Ĭopyright © 2006 by Editions Albin Michel - Paris