Archive for the ‘English’ Category



8 octobre 2019

I had sworn we never would, but here we are, back in the same space together, trapped. Together and apart, breathing in in spite of ourselves, tied to the same fate like cursed Siamese, pulling in and away. Here I am, here you are, saving face, reluctantly running and standing still.

As long as your work is unfinished, as long as pathos gets in the way, your steps are retracing themselves in a repetitive and inescapable circle.

All I can is to watch you, I stand at the center like the point of a compass, only instead of pointing the way I have become an anchor.

If I close my eyes I will still know where you are – not very far, not really close, getting uselessly breathless.

My words are not welcome, I am not doing anything other than waiting, and yet, I am tired.

There should be a way forward. For both of us. By steadying you, have lost myself. Where is my path, the one that led me here – where are my choices? The wind of time and doubts has erased my past and thus I know not which way to face in order to find myself again.

Yet there is no despair, only hope and the certainty of a better way. I watch you running to exhaustion, pulling forward and shielding away. Waiting for the spark, the trigger that will derail you from his useless quests. A spark that is not I. Once you can fly away, where will I be?


Back to Life

28 août 2019

There are fleeting sounds and smells, a vague remembrance of self. The mind adrift, nothing holding to the present. Hands, mostly gentle even if sometimes not, the rustle of new sheets and the persistence of machines.
Sun and lavender through the windows.
It is fine to remain semi-conscious, afloat and in between. Lurking in the shadows, the menace of memories and understanding.
Time seeps through unattended. This cannot be forever, yet just for now it is enough. Being alive, evading the pain, enabling the body to heal and the mind to rest. Every breath moving away from the darkness, all the while bringing closer by the seconds the moment when wokedness will not be evaded further.


The quiet reconning

5 avril 2019

Still, she sits.
The hours are, she could not ignore them even if she tried, she feels every second weighing on her soul and heart. The stone beneath her is cold and hard and yet she moves not. For she could not, so heavy are her thoughts, and indeed, what is the point.
She has uselessly fought the wind, it has cought her hair and twirled and whirled, her ears deafened by ancient screams echoing her mind.
She has resisted, she has gone to war and refused defeat… her energy, her life, the world, she won’t be dictated.
So much time, so many battles and insignificant inches won… despite her oaths, tonight she feels she can not go on.
To understand what has defeated her she knows not. Was it a single second or the sum of her disappointments? She has realised she does not care anymore.
Still, she sits, at the top of a hill, and the valley beyond she contemplates, her mind wondering with what may have been her defeats and what she has learned.

It is a bittersweet reconning, she cannot be sure of what she has won or lost, tonight is neither a surrender nor a victory, rather it is a still moment in time, she is wiser than yesterday and yet unsure if tomorrow could be kind, and she has wants, freezing on the cold stone dominating the world, she fights back her tears, her anger and words, and softly nurses a small flicker of hope, her strongest weapon, for from a flicker grows a fire, a storm, as long as a door remains open, still and quiet and strong, she will succeed, tomorrow, after tonight’s sorrows she will thrive.


Letter from the Other Beyond

30 janvier 2017

From Darkness I have woken, an imperceptible sight all my body could muster, a breath. Amidst time’s interstice for centuries I laid, crushed under World’s Worries and Burdens, falling far and deeper in my own self’s oblivion, greyness and dust, as I welded myself in rock, my body my tomb crushing light and tomorrows, my other self a Timekeeper forcing me into healing nothingness.

A million puzzle pieces, and who am I.

A million tears and eternal sorrow as the Circle of Things retraces its own steps, two walls guarding its path on each side.
Words burning the sky and engraving my soul – everything has happened before and will happen again – are we condemned? Our angels grieve with poignant compassion and our soil cries her children’s blood… each and every time Humanity’s Nevermores became Oncemores, each and every mistake an atrocity.

I feel so tired. Why should I ever resurface.

Yet from Darkness I have woken, an imperceptible sight all my body could muster, a second breath. My body so heavy, I don’t have the strength. My eyes won’t open, I don’t want to see, I don’t want to move nor do I want to be. I will myself to Nothing or else my heart will break a million times again, should I let Reality be, World, you are exhausting me.
History tells us all, if only we were listening, but we keep on our ways, Arrogant Youth never parting from the Circle, religiously reenacting the same scenario and retracing human errors again and again.
Quiet the Worrier, shut up Cassandre, this time it will be different. I know.
Alas, aren’t we so small and insignificant, shouldn’t we be humbled.

It hurts. To breathe and to be alive. To hope and to risk everything.

How terrifying let your gard down to love and believe in others. And yet, what if we were to belong in a herd of journeyers, our steps joining an adjacent path creating new possibilities. Once upon a time, what if we weren’t hopeless. We may be nothing alone, but together wouldn’t we be an army guided with Knowledge and Light?

I can’t lay still for much longer now, a decision must be made.

If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.
Desmond Tutu


I mean you no harm

19 juillet 2016

I mean you no harm

As I walk the path

As I find my way


I mean you no harm

As I look back

And see others

Breathe where I exhaled


I mean you no harm

As I try, as I stumble,

As I preserve my light.


After the long morrow

16 novembre 2015

The days have gone by one by one, faded dawns replacing it’s preceding sisters, each morrow so long and sad, a tern succession of blurred obligations fulfilled in a dizzy automated stance, any excuse being good enough, fears chasing time, filling every hour with noise because in stillness were thoughts, the cold harsh reality of things that are.

Because the dark had gone and light was too violent, because I needed the protections of shadows, of compromise, because I wasn’t strong enough to face today, because there is always the promise of the day after tomorrow.

And so, here we are.
What I did not know of your games, I could guess.
I know all your changing stories, all your conflicting truths, the cold calculation of your smile paired with your eyes lacking warmth, the deliberate choices that brought us where we were, where we are. I have fought the winds of flux, the unease of wanting to avoid the inevitable, I so desperately wanted to think that something redeemable lies dormant in everyone.
Isn’t everything about waking up.

There is no sadness, no pity, I do not hurt. I will not miss you.
It took a while before the curtain lifted high enough, before the light around me had so grown that I could not remain blind any longer. Even then… I was in no hurry to confront the chess game I knew existed beneath my feet, the arena at the center of which you had made me piece of.

Why doesn’t matter. I knew.

Because I didn’t want to see for so long, I enabled the slow  and inevitable erosion of my will, because I let it go once, then twice and thrice, because I didn’t take a stand, I locked myself in a pattern.

There is nothing in what you did to me that I didn’t let you do.

Until I was in tomorrow and the day after, until things could be no more. Until I let you go.
I thought the fire had gone, too, I felt so cold, I thought I would need to climb mountains to find myself again… I had lost faith in the sparkle that will always dance in my heart, in the love that my kindreds will always give to me unconditionally. In the gardians that look over my shoulder and protect me in the strangest of ways.

I am loved and I have worth, I didn’t need to manipulate or walk on anyone to get where I am: I do not have anything to prove, my path is walked on my own terms and today, I get to decide where I want to go, and who I will go there with.

Good bye you, all of you, my dark shadows, my drains, you who held power over me and missused it knowingly, you who thought you could make me into something I’m not.

I am me, I am free, and I’m definitely enjoying the ride.


I have switched to the other side: it’s peaceful there

11 mai 2015

In the land of remembrance, there’s a song whispering in my ear. In the forgotten memories, there’s light, love, loss, tears, there’s life.

There’s a taste of bitter, sweet… today I know all the answers to yesterday’s angst, today I know to let go of the past and to look forward to the best from the future, yet all the while knowing that the worst may still come.

Let it be. I will survive.

Today there are regrets of things undone, of things unlived, today I can say that I should have ran, I should have escaladed barriers and jumped over cliffs. I still can, it’s not too late. Today I can look forward to tomorrow.

Today I know that there’s a true meaning to clichés, they didn’t create themselves out of thin air in someone’s overflowing’s imagination, clichés have their reasons to be and yes, we only have one life, so, what are you going to do with yours ?

There’s no point in looking back except for strength, in order to find the serenity to accept what cannot be changed, the courage to change what can be changed, and the wisdom to know the one from the other. We need to climb our own mountains; we have to tear down our private walls, and we shall overcome if we believe in ourselves.


We truly and always have held all the answers within ourselves.


Mute #JesuisCharlie

22 janvier 2015

je-suis-charlieEveryday’s routine, it goes on…

Time hasn’t stopped. Nothing’s changed and yet everything is different.

It’s the same winter cold hurting your hands and preventing the blood to flow, the same people tapping their feet in the bleak morning, waiting for the train to pull up, trying to wake up, trying to figure out reality from their dreams, the same clock telling you to get up, you sleep walk through the routine, you close your eyes under the water beating down your neck, your back, your face, you stand in front of your closet trying to figure out what to wear, cursing yourself for not planning ahead, yesterday you should have thought about tomorrow. You should have known. Someone should have known.

You’re not hungry. You never are before you leave but now your stomach hurts.

Nothing seems real anymore, everything hurts, even more than usual, if you wake up the numbness will stop and it can’t, how can you go on, how can you accept the routine, the minutes, the days, how can life go on… If you wake up you will start feeling and anger will rush in, with frustration and the deafening noise of things left unsaid.

Please tell me… how to look down in my child’s innocent eyes and explain.

Something happened.

You can’t wrap up your mind around it.

Somewhere in your head, there’s a young girl screaming that this isn’t right. If someone came into your home, if someone pushed the door and walked and spread terror, what then, how would you go on… You often get angry when your kids don’t lock the door, they feel so safe and confident, probably thanks to you, they are very curious and unafraid, you and your inner barriers admire that in them. Look, all these people dead Maman, look at those mad men, why Maman, can’t they take a joke? Poor them then. The adults are so intense and weird. It’s a pretty harsh way to disagree over a bad joke.

They bend their head solemnly; somehow they got it quicker than you.

This is what it feels like. This is what happened

Someone walked into your home and killed people you had never met, even though you knew all their names and faces, even thought you had read their work, laughed at some of their jokes and frowned over others. Some one walked over your soul and reminded you that nothing is forever, they showed you how hard it is to remain true to freedom, how much courage it takes to unabashly laugh in spite of or because of how absurd our world is.

You who won’t speak, you who knows so well how to love and embrace the present, today you can’t cry over what is nor over what will never be. You are mourning in silence, knowing things must change but not quite sure where to start.

They had so much joy and irony in them, still, they had so much to do, to draw, to speak of.

They have been robbed of a future and you feel like you have been robbed too, that something that wasn’t quite yours but that you felt you could claim as yours was ripped away.

Today’s routine is about whys an why nots, it’s about never knowing when you will be home, where exactly will people be so afraid that they will call in a bomb scare, the threat is unreal and only exists in themselves, to you everyone is a potential companion whether is be for 5 minutes or a lifetime, today is about trains going backwards and people trapped and scared, today is about walking endless hallways and finding a way home… and when you forget your phone, you are truly even more peacefully alone than usual.

Life will go on. People will heal, they will forget, blindness is so much more comfortable. There will only be a few, like you, waking up in the middle of the night to wonder and cry for the lost ones and the darkness in the ennemy’s souls, for, so you think, they must have endured hell on earth to hate so much that the only answer would be to walk into someone else’s home, cross the sacred threshold and shed blood. There is no redemption, there is no going back and you have no answer and so, in your own innocent loneliness, all you can do is walk the hallways in the cold and find your way home to hold your children.

And when you arrive, they will look at you and say:

– They are not lost, they are dicks.

And they will be right.



When John walks at night

29 janvier 2012

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