Juliette Lamboley
In a summer Paris, during an epidemic, a ghostly character from another time discovers our contemporary urban life. His contemplative wandering, from afternoon to dawn, gives him ideas of alexandrines; those of Melancholia, written by Victor Hugo in 1856...
Mitraillette is 12 years old and lives in Rose City, a housing estate he would not leave for anything. His whole world comprises his family, especially his 16 year-old cousin Isma, who has taken a fancy to Narcisse, the local crime boss. His older brother Djibril is 22, a student at the Sorbonne who dreams of becoming a lawyer. As for Mitraillette, he has his eye on Océane, the most beautiful girl in his school...
The people of Paris loved him, because he took care of the poor, and had no sympathy for the rich
The story about the age gap between a scientist father, Philipe Le Tallec, and his newly discovered teen aged daughter, Eglantine.
A group of travelers, including a monk, stay in a lonely inn in the mountains. The host confesses the monk his habit of serving poisoned soup to the guests, to rob their possessions and to bury them in the backyard. The story unfolds as the monk tries to save the guest's lives without violating the holy secrecy of the confession.
Eva is a Jewish literature teacher at a high school in Bordeaux, France, after the Second World War. During the war her whole family was sent to the German extermination camps by French collaborators. Eva survived by chance. Then by chance a new girl enters her class, a girl who resembles Eva's dead daughter...
Paris, 1900. The 16-year-old Gigi lives in a world of mere women, inspired by Anna Karenina and Madame Bovary, she doesn't want to surrender to the "bondage of a loveless marriage".
Through this short window open on a two days into the life of the characters you have to guess who they are and from where they have come from. There is this lonely male character, mostly pathetic, this bored women in the middle of a painful lame life, this naive actress in search of her soul mate.
