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Aren’t you happy (French-English version)
Ah! Cette solitude N’est-ce pas là Le prix qu’il te faut payer Pour des rues sûres, des villes-lumière Des cris qui parlent de bonheur Des nuits sans coups de feu
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It’s all falling apart
Speed writing at the Hyster-x writing residence on August 6th, 2022
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Announcement to my readers
Hi everyone. I have been publishing my poems on my personal blog for some time but I decided to share them under a different format to reach more people.
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I once wrote love poems
Didn’t ask for flowers Or love songs My face plastered on your wall Or sweet nickname Along my number on your phone Didn’t ask you to love me The way I loved you
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Is it me?
Is that dissatisfaction the woman condition?
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Aborted hopes
Very butchered translation of a short story written when I was 16.
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Ideation
Chapter 1 Spiritually enriching Things tend to go away when you ignore them long enough, don’t they? At least that is what she kept telling herself. Because if she ever stopped to think, she would have to worry, to ask for help, to grapple with long buried things that she didn’t feel ready to stir […]
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A man
A man can make you smile Even if you don’t mean to So afraid you are to see The ice setting in his eyes When you refuse to act “pretty” A man can make your eyes shine From the tears that you shed On his heavy silences His scathing words When he tells you you’re […]
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Joanna: English version
Here’s an imperfect translation of a story that I wrote when I was 14 years old. I remember being so proud of myself for writing it. It was for a competition where they give you the italicized part and you have to continue the story. I was so disappointed that I didn’t win that year. I don’t really know what to think about it now. I seem to have written one of those female characters that are just narrative devices in a man’s story. She is passionate, says all the right words and wakes the hero from his lethargy. I wonder what direction the story would have taken if I had written it today.
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JOANNA
J’ai écrit ce texte quand j’avais 14 ans. Je me souviens avoir été tellement fière de l’avoir écrit. C’était pour une compétition où on vous donne la partie en italique et vous devez continuer l’histoire. J’ai été trop déçue de ne pas avoir gagné cette année-là. Je ne sais pas trop quoi en penser maintenant…
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Bibil
How could the men we know be monsters? Monsters were creepy old dudes lurking in gloomy streets, preying on virginal girls. Not boys having sex with their girlfriends. Getting the friends involved was certainly questionable. But how could it be rape? The boys who befriended my family, who were at my house all the time, making me laugh so often, couldn’t be rapists. Could they?
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These people we love
These people we love But that we cannot reach We feel the love boiling inside Feel that they are somehow a part of us A part of our story But sometimes the words fail us We struggle to meet them Across the gap of time Across the opportunities That made us different Made that our […]
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World tour through books: Afghanistan
“What’s the difference between menstrual blood and blood that is clean? What’s so disgusting about this blood?…You were born of this blood! It is cleaner than the blood of your own body!”
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For whom does the caged bird sing?
But when you fall, you’ll see You’ll hear them saying How you’ve set the fight back for your entire race.
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Aren’t you happy
Home is a killing ground At home, when you go out You might never come back
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Parlons-en: L’amie prodigieuse (La saga)
J’ai eu la chance de rencontrer une dame charmante il y a quelques années. C’était une féministe, la responsable d’une organisation de femmes. Elle m’a conseillé plusieurs livres et auteurs. Elle m’a surtout offert un exemplaire du premier tome de cette magnifique saga d’Elena Ferrante : L’amie prodigieuse. Je ne connaissais pas encore cette auteure. […]
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Impostor
Am I just another pretty girl with daddy issues?
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Espoirs avortés
English translation available on the blog
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