To Selene. After a heatwaved Saturday, Sunday was grey. The kind of mid-grey leaning towards white and which you wouldn’t know if it’s going to color the entire day or only a fleeting and uncertain morning. The previous day’s suffocating atmosphere had simmered down, the night’s humidity lingered; or was it only a countryside’s privilege? … More The Wanderer above the sea of fog
Sally Rooney has made headlines for a few days: for those who live in a cave, she is banished from UK librairies because she has stood for Palestine. I won’t dwell on it, some have already spoken better than me. I write today more of a praise, personal and private, to this author, one of … More Praising Sally
In the twenties, after the Great War, was born the Lost Generation. The idea, not the people made of it. This artistic current had risen from war horrors and feelings there was nothing to expect from the future… For 39,6 million good reasons*.
A few days ago I read a German article: “Wenn die Geduld zu Ende geht” I then wondered: have we created, in our weird habit of repeating history, the Lost Generation of the 21st century? … More Lost Generation?
I didn’t protest in 2006 when other pupils were on barricades against some specific rules for our first jobs. I wasn’t against the contestation. I didn’t understand their demands. I was not into politics. Mostly because I was raised in a privileged family, at least back then, and it didn’t occur to me I couldn’t disagree with my parents. … More To arms, pupils!
I have a (pretty) good memory. Depending on the length between the event and me, I can tell when it was. Down to the day or to the month. Sometimes, I don’t even need an event, it is only an ordinary day, an empty day. Thus, I know exactly what I was doing, feeling, being, October, 9th 2025, but also October, 2018.
Like my own little remembrance. … More Remembrance
I am seeking you in my every meet
It is not on purpose
You have become my referee
Your voice’s inflection Your heart’s intention
Will he smell like you Will he feel like you
I am looking for your colour I am seeking your valor … More I am seeking you in my every meet
Two months ago, I got the big news: “your short stories are about to be published”.
A week ago, I signed my first contract with an editor: it made that announcement a bit more solemn.
Two days ago, I announced my book on social media: it made the project a bit more official. … More “Real”
A sweet autumnal breeze blows into my nights.
As in my days.
I close my windows. I shut my shutters.
I can hear the silence. … More The whisper of the world
In those independent and yet intertwined stories, twelve characters meet, miss each other, mingle at some live’s rendezvous. Along those encounters, along those individual or collective breaking points, each of them gets close to themselves, sees through a new lense and finaly creates the life they want. … More Rencontre(s)
I had planned to call this post “My worst ride on the train”. No room for interpretation. But I remembered the name one of the ticket inspector gave me and I found it nicer. Then I realized it didn’t quite match my other berliner titles and I found it clearer. In the end, this post has 3 titles, thousands of detours (as much as twists and turns), too many useless brackets and quote marks, not enough vital digressions. A sort of raw porridge of what moved me for 24 hours. And I am spoiling the end in the process! It is starting as well as my ride! … More Leaving on time
I am in love with weeping willows.
I think they are utterly poetic.
Their name only. Sounds like poetry.
And their way of longing along water to fill them in with tears. … More The willow weeps in my heart
