Sad ocean view…

My mum and dad have been married for 34 years now. It’s like a lifetime together, and if I’m not sure they still love each other the same way their did when they first met, I know they still have love for each other and that’s what count really isn’t it ?

I was born a year later, mum said they were impatient to have me. That make me happy and so sad at the same time, they were so young and had so much expectations.

Now I’m an adult, thirty-three years old, I left home a decade ago for Paris 6000 kilometres away, my little sister followed and then my little brother and now my parents are all alone back home in Martinique.

All alone in their four bedroom house with three empty bedroom. Two of those with an amazing and unobstructed view on the ocean, all open to the immensity of the world where far away their children are trying to build their own lives.

How could such a beautiful view being so sad ?

If only I’d known…

If only they’d told us it would be the last time we would travel together,

If only we had known the sky would be grey for so long we would forget the colour of the sun

I would have stared longer into your eyes 

Instead of letting myself daydream about tomorrow, 

I would have chosen to be me rather than the one you wanted me to be

Instead of silencing myself just to hear your voice,

I would have been happy and free and light like a bird you could have fly away with

Instead of the stone of insecury that was weighing you down,

I  would have let your light shine into my heart

Instead of watching you walking away, leaving me in the dark… 


She wants to be here in the middle of the room with them, because right now she is too afraid of the silence, the one eating her from the inside.

But their voices are so loud, all around her, that she’s getting swallowed by them…

And the silence is back stronger than ever…

Breathe in , breathe out…

Maybe it’s unnecessary…

Maybe she isn’t even alive after all.

Morning anxiety….


It comes back every morning…

Chocking me, suffocating me,

I can feel it creeping up on me while I’m in the shower…

Going stronger while I dress up,

Reaching it’s climax as I’m leaving for work,

Every morning I feel like it’s going to kill me…

But Anxiety just love to kill you slowly …

Something to say about bullies

Is it because we’re still smiling even when everything is falling apart ?

Is it because we because we have colored hair, tattoos, piercings?  

Is it because we dress differently from you ?

It because we’re shy, socially awkward, anxious?

Is it because our voices is harder to hear covered by all the noise of the world. 

Is it because you can?

Because you’re louder, confident in your own shoes?

Because other look up to you ?

Because you consider yourself a leader ?

Is that why you need mock us, humiliate us, judge us, and shatter the small confidence we have in ourselves. 

Does it make you stronger, do you feel powerful when you make us want to disappear..

You’re just a natural born bully… nothing to be proud about and we are stronger than you think.

Back in town…

I’m back to the writing land, because while nobody notices that I had stopped -even me after a while-

Time just kept stretching itself like a long roll of anxiousness energy and void of emotions.

But now there is an issue and this issue is probably the incounscious reason behind why stopped : what do I have to say ? 

Even less then before I think, I stopped writing before the last lockdown and while I (the shy asocial woman) enjoyed immensely being locked home for six months , I didn’t do much during this time… Especially not writing.

And I know I should feel ashame. Right. But I do not. Because I had nothing to say. Or maybe too much, but the result was the same : No writing. I was feeling too much, too much obsessive thoughts in my ming, to much noise no time for the scribling. Because to write you have to stop and write. But I was spinning.

Now I’m back at work and writing is back too it’s like i need to be active to be productive. Otherwise I can’t do anything.

Some call that lazyness, i call it giving up, not trying, void, inaction… Whatever else. 
Being lazy mean that you dont want to do the things you have to do. But what if you feel like you don’t have anything to do. Nowhere to go. No will whatsoever… then it’s not lazyness is it ? 

Ballade en bord de Marne,

Je sens le soleil sur ma peau mais le vent dans mon dos me rappelle que c’est l’hiver.

Ça fait un an déjà que dure cet état de latence,

Ça devient dur d’écrire, de dire, d’en rire,

Les jours s’allongent mais perdent de leur saveur,

Tout le monde dans le même bateau qui prend l’eau,

Mais chacun sa façon de se noyer,

Optimistes contre pessimistes se débattent dans l’océan d’incertitudes,

Et pendant ce temps j’erre au bord de la Marne,

À l’aube d’un jour nouveau.

Petite ballade en compagnie de mon sprocket de Lomography.

Par la fenêtre…

Léthargique, prostrée, absente au monde

Elle le regarde vivre, changer, passer

Dans le silence de sa chambre,

Dans le silence de ses sens,

Elle n’a pas choisi de fuir,

Elle n’a juste pas su éclore,

Une coquille vide, noircie par le temps,

Mais dont l’essence brille à l’intérieur,

Tout au fond et bien à l’abri

De la lumière perverse du monde.

End of the year 2020

Let’s not talk a bout the C word

Let’s not talk about the V word

Let’s not talk about how F*** up our lives turns out in 2020

All the time we were given to ourselves 

All the time we choose to do nothing with it

All the time we were climbing walls in our head while laying still in our beds

And all the news, news, news that we couldn’t escape

 And all the move, move, move that we couldn’t  achieve 

And all the pain, pain, pain some of us got through 

This year was a reminder that some things are way bigger than ourselves and that we are capable of working together when we have to, so let’s keep working to have a better next year. 

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