Burning heart hour

For a few weeks, I woke up every time at the exact same hour. 3 am. To start a nice two hours insomnia. Yet, I am not the kind to wake up in the middle of the night. I am more of a before falling asleep insomniac. When I looked for the meaning of that specific time of the night, between 3 and 5 am, I learned it was sadness and grief hour. Then, I was sad indeed and definitely getting ready for my next symbolic grief. … More Burning heart hour

With certain persons you are torn apart…

With certain persons you are torn apart. It feels like each part of your body lived its own life. Like each organ stepped outside. Take the heart for instance. This romantic piece of flesh which has been crowned prince of love. … More With certain persons you are torn apart…

Love Parade

Tonight, I am going to the most important date of my whole lover’s carreer (to this day). I am going to the date of the unknown: I don’t known if it is a new beginning or an end. I have thought about my outfit for days and days to find the perfect fit, the perfect mix of chill and sexy. … More Love Parade

The Looking Glass

Tonight, I don’t recognize myself. Who is the stranger looking at me in the mirror? Is she me? I am not sure I am part of her body anymore… Yet, this body I am living in can’t be denied anymore. I am not allowed to ignore it, my body is more and more present by the minute. I feel like I am exploring new organs, new members, I am pierced by extreme feelings. … More The Looking Glass

Where everything blurs

SomewhereHer heart beats somewhereWhenever a foreign sound hits her earWhenever an unknown turn shows to her eyeShe goesShe has already left Elsewhere She learnsAnywhereShe gets to know herself Where everything blursWhere one day contains endless nights Where nights are rainbows throughout the sky Elsewhere She seeksAnywhereShe looks for herself A constant quest for adventuresExplorationsEmotions A … More Where everything blurs

Words’ fight

Sometimes, words are resisting, they refuse to comply, to display; they only want to be plain, insignificant. They apologise for only existing, they balk listening. For a week, words have been elusive. They randomly dropped on my keyboard. Detached. Uncomplete. Untamed. They had other things to do than translate my stories, than endorse my inspirations. … More Words’ fight