By Daniel Bor in neuroimaging Over this week, there has been a striking debate in the blogosphere and on Twitter concerning the flaws in many published neuroimaging studies.
Not of much use to society, really. Yet one night when I was walking back home down Boulevard de Clichy, en route to Rue des Martyrs, I was accosted by a young woman who put her arm through mine and asked if I was a doctor. She was tall, and not especially pretty.
Was slightly dark-skinned, clearly of North African extraction, and not too made-up. She was well enough dressed. Come home with me. We came to a street called Rue Darcet, just after Place de Clichy, where we went upstairs to a squalid little apartment.
It was hardly an apartment, more a bedsit. I was surprised, however, to see three reproductions of what seemed to be portraits of eminent doctors hanging on her wall. She opened a bottle of quite a decent burgundy, and offered me a cigar, which I declined.
Undeterred, she lit one for herself and helped me with the wine. You had no grey in your beard then. I remember you well, coming out of serious operations, flushed with having handed that great surgeon his instruments — I forget his name.
There was a man who loved to cut, snip and trim. You were in awe of his ability to do amazing things in such a short amount of time. Admit it, my sweet. You are a doctor.
She took a bundle of papers from a cupboard, photocopies of old headshots of famous surgeons that we all might have heard of. She pointed to one and asked me if I recognised him.
And this fellow is another surgeon who called your acquaintance a monster who wears his black soul on his face. Because they disagreed on a diagnosis, and the patient died. It was the time of the rioting. I saw him once when he gave a talk at the Sorbonne. They all showed young doctors working as interns but none of them looked remotely like me.
But others are kinder. I gathered from a couple of his colleagues that he was broke, so I invited him to come and see me as often as he liked, and ask for whatever he wanted. I conveyed this to him indirectly. I have a fantasy, you see. I made my excuses about the hour being late, and got up to go.
I thanked her for the wine and the conversation, and made my way down to the street. The sad people that are loose in the world, I thought. I was given the taste for horror so I could stand the world, as a knife leads to healing. Is there such a thing as an innocent monster? All mad people should be protected.
Who is to say why some of us exist, and why some of us might have been better served by not having come into existence. He stayed in his redoubt in the Hautes Vosges on the slopes of Storckentopf, although to call his dwelling a redoubt was insulting it.
No, it had been erected by the best Alsace builders to have all the grace and impregnability of a small medieval castle. It was so elegantly made that some said the best German builders had been inveigled over the border to assist the French craftsmen.
What was there to bring le Meneur Joubert back to polluted and now dangerous Paris? Well, a head of state, even one self-appointed, had occasional matters of state to account for and the parliament was unfortunately still in Paris, a juicy target for any ambitious terrorist, of which there seemed to be a growing number.
His fearsome force de police noire well there were some white policemen in that strike force but they were in the minority and could only be part of it if they agreed to go under the black umbrella did their damnedest to keep the country safe but bombings and shootings still took place.
There were also the constant visits of foreign heads of state to be dealt with. As much as he could he tried to get these to meet him in his Vosges palace, but many of these dignitaries wanted to see Paris.Latest SPM Model Essays. 17 July Water.
I flew over the water, my hand skimming the water's surface. I love the water - it was so much better than our cities up in the sky. Translation Software Download. Translation Software Download helps you download Babylon translation software that translates more than 75 languages with just 1 simple click.
Education in Malaysia is overseen by the Ministry of Education (Kementerian Pendidikan).Although education is the responsibility of the Federal Government, each state and federal territory has an Education Department to co-ordinate educational matters in its territory.
The main legislation governing education is the Education Act The education system is divided into preschool education. My mother is the most important person in my life. I have been mentioning her in almost all of the essays I write.
The problem is, I cannot really express how I feel about her in just words. My mother is not my whole life, but she is a really big part of it.
My whole world does not only revolve 3/5(10). Aug 14, · My English teacher recently asked me to write an essay about what I think a hero is.
Below is the completed assignment expressing my personal definition. The experiences and thoughts expressed here are quite personal. Feel free to leave your comments but please keep them positive. Remember, there are always two sides to a coin..
Oct 15, · Hello Daniel, I like your work a great deal. I have had ‘mental issues’ from the age of 17 when l was poisoned with LSD. Yes l had a traumatic childhood and suffered greatly from the physical violence of my father and his complete lack of empathy.