Boris K. was hired by the French Minister of Foreign Affairs to investigate the villa where he lives.
Boris K could hear the voices in the basement.
All fled from the villa, crying: “Help! L’aide, ce sont des terroristes! They are terrorists!”
Yet Boris reveals that it’s only the ghost of the French poet, Jean Maltraitance, or Jean The Maltreatment, the restless spirit…
So he decided to settle himself into the house of the minister whose grandfather courted his grandmother with Maltreatment’s poetry.
Yet the ghost of the poet Jean The Mistreatment can not leave the house until ….


Author: Leila Samarrai

I am a person of Himalayan seclusion, I am Atalanta in vestments of Helen of Troy, for me there is no term (aphorism there is, maybe). Cosmopolitan is too modest word for one who wanders across epochs without the help of the time machine. Some people consider me weird, because usually this is so when they do not understand something or someone that do not represent their existence. I love cats, an animals in general, I like challenges, I am persistent, I am combative (sometimes I can exaggerate in that - in all) If I were stylistic figure my mortal name would be Hyperbole. Read me. Know me. Conquer me :)

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