[...three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.]
The Seven Days Meme
#4 • a site
#5 • a youtube clip
# 6 • straight
; # 7 • Whatever Tickles your fancy
" In the eighteenth century lived in France a man, between the figures most brilliant and wicked of that brilliant and wicked non-poor figures. Here is his story.
His name was Jean-Baptiste Grenouille , and if his name, contrary to the name of other brilliant shows such as de Sade, Saint-Just, Fouché, Bonaparte, and so on. Today has been forgotten. is certainly not because Grenouille them back to these most famous sons of darkness for arrogance, contempt for others, immorality, wickedness short, but because his genius and only ambition was in an area that does not leave in history Track: in the fleeting realm of odors.
At the time of which we speak, in the city ruled a stench barely conceivable to us modern.
The streets stank of manure, the courtyards of urine, the stairwells of rotten wood and rat droppings, the kitchens of spoiled cabbage and mutton fat, non-ventilated rooms stank of stale dust, the rooms bedrooms of greasy sheets, duvets and the damp smell of pungent and sweet pots.
the chimneys was the stench of sulfur from the tanneries was the smell of solvents, the stench of dried blood from slaughterhouses.
People stank of sweat and unwashed clothes, from the mouths came the stench of rotting teeth, from stomachs and a smell of onions from the bodies, when they were no longer so young, was a smell of old cheese and sour milk and cancer.
rivers stank, stank squares, the churches stank, stench was under bridges and palaces.
The peasant stank as the priest, the apprentice as the wife of the master, all the aristocracy stank, even the king stank, stank like a wild animal, and the Queen like an old goat, summer and winter . In fact, in the eighteenth century there was still no limits on disruptive action of bacteria ie so there was no human activity, either constructive or destructive, or event living on the rise or decline, which was not accompanied by stench.
And of course the biggest stink was in Paris, because Paris was the largest city in France.
And in Paris there was also a place where the stench reigned more than ever, hell, between Rue de la Rue aux Fers and Ferronnerie, namely the Cimetière des Innocents.
For eight hundred years had brought here the Hôtel-Dieu hospital deaths and the surrounding parishes, for eight hundred years, day after day, dozens of corpses had been brought here with carts and overturned into long it was, for eight hundred years crypts and charnel houses were built up, layer by layer, bone and bones. And only later, on the eve of the French Revolution, when some were dangerously landslide of corpses and the stench of overflowing cemetery led the neighbors no longer a simple protest, but to actual insurrection, the cemetery was finally closed and abandoned and millions of bones and skulls were cast in spades in the catacombs of Montmartre, and was replaced by a square with a food market.
Here, then, in the most foul of all the kingdom, was born July 17, 1738 Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. "
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