The cranes removed the plants one by one, stripping the terrace of its bougainvillea, its lemon trees, polychrome memories of a last Mediterranean summer on the shores of Lake Geneva. It is raining in Lausanne. At 11, rue du Liseron, the spinning balcony is empty, the apartment sealed. The ashes will be dispersed on February 23, as she has decided. On this day, Magda, the Russian soprano, will sing her favorite aria, Oh mio babbino caro , by Puccini. Michèle Mathieu-Saint Laurent said goodbye to her close friends, to her three children - Laurent, Claire, Pascal -, to her six grandchildren, as at the edge of a journey, a crossing on the other side from the mirror. Two days before her death, she still quipped: "The lady who is going to come for the injection is very pretty. It's still pleasant, isn't it? ” To speak of her imperfectly is to forget her laughter. It has been through his accomplice, his guardian, his reason for living, survive, his inner light, "Even when I hurt, I laugh. With Yves,
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