Descrip­tions

Description anglaise:

By the time Munira bint Azhar stepped out of her street-level apartment that Monday morning, she had two good reasons to turn around and crawl right back into bed. The migraine jackhammering behind her eyelids had her feeling like one of the undead, but it was the near collision with a rickshaw full of tourists on their way to one of Port Nightfall’s many casinos that had really put the icing on her can-this-day-be-over-already morning.

It had also cost her a perfectly good cup of coffee, not to mention her favorite mug. She glared down at the shattered green zombie face and the cheap ceramic shards that used to proclaim Great Minds Taste Alike.

“Bloody tourists,” she grumbled, as she swept the broken pieces into the gutter grate at the curb. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t pack ‘em up and send ‘em Below.”

…

Traduction approximative:

Au moment où Munira bint Azhar est sorti de son appartement de plain-pied ce lundi matin, elle a eu deux bonnes raisons de faire demi-tour et de ramper droit de retour dans le lit. Le jackhammering(?) la migraine derrière ses paupières a eu son sentiment comme l'un des morts-vivants, mais c'était la quasi-collision avec un plein de touristes pousse-pousse sur le chemin de l'un des nombreux casinos Nightfall Port qui avait vraiment mis la cerise sur son peut-cette journée--être-plus-déjà le matin.

Il avait également coûté une tasse de café parfaitement bien, sans parler de sa tasse préférée. Elle lança un regard furieux vers le bas à la face zombie vert brisé et les tessons de céramique bon marché qui ont utilisé de proclamer Grands Esprits Goûtez l'Identique.

"Bloody Tourists», grommela-elle, comme elle a balayé les morceaux dans le caniveau à grille au bord du trottoir. "Impossible de vivre avec eux, ne peuvent se tasser 'em up et envoyer' em ci-dessous."

By the time Munira bint Azhar stepped out of her street-level apartment that Monday morning, she had two good reasons to turn around and crawl right back into bed. The migraine jackhammering behind her eyelids had her feeling like one of the undead, but it was the near collision with a rickshaw full of tourists on their way to one of Port Nightfall’s many casinos that had really put the icing on her can-this-day-be-over-already morning.

It had also cost her a perfectly good cup of coffee, not to mention her favorite mug. She glared down at the shattered green zombie face and the cheap ceramic shards that used to proclaim Great Minds Taste Alike.

“Bloody tourists,” she grumbled, as she swept the broken pieces into the gutter grate at the curb. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t pack ‘em up and send ‘em Below.”

…