BlueOwl

Brazil

she/her
music & languages & tea
nolite te bastardes carborundorum
I realized it couldn't hurt to publish my writings online, so here I am!
#giveusbackourwords

| joined on April 1st 2020 |

Message from Writer

Thank you so much for being interested in one of my pieces!
I hope you're not too disappointed
Feedback is always welcomed
& please, by all means, enjoy!

If you need a review, just ask!

Published Work

Une valse à mille temps

Her hand around my waist
Guiding me to put
One foot
After
The other 
Turning
Here and there
Now and then
Our laughter filling the room
Or just the space between us
Which got
Smaller and
Smaller  
The opia made my heart race.

However, despite of the magic, I could still see her eyebags getting bigger and deeper, like a permanent shadow. It screamed tiredness, yet she still had on the most charming smile ever to be seen by any other human on Earth. One of those smiles, always accompanied by an admiring loving gaze. The expression of love in the most pure way.  

this place isn't worth saving

I can't help but
doubt my eyes
the numbers, the deaths
the neglect
the disgust

it's been a very long time since I've felt like this
eyes dry longing to cry
something weighting down on my chest 
falling, spiraling

Rio de Janeiro, the wonderful city,
where murders by the police never cease to rise
Salvador, the former city of joy,
its natural beauties now destroyed

I didn't choose this
I didn't vote for this
but the people chose this
Brazil chose this
is this what I am?

the blood running through my veins is
the same as the one of those
who fought for freedom but
the same as the one of those
who took it away

this is the ignorant blood
the manipulated people of
the Red Land
the ones who chose
doom

I am no savior but
is it too hard to understand
I'm just trying to save myself
from this burden I bear
this burden I am

blood...

Dust Jacket

Owl in 3's | Athene's dust jacket

Three communities to which you belong
LGBTQ+ community. I can talk about how amazing girls are without coming across as weird (which is always nice)
French community. Even though I'm not French, I'm part of it because I study at the local French school and so I know everyone. And thanks to them I have had amazing opportunities (such as performing at the French consulate).
Vegetarian community. It's one of the ways I found to fight against climate change, like many of my classmates (even though there are many other things you could do/stop doing).

Three places you learn well: pretty much anywhere with a desk (even if it's noisy).

Three adjectives your peers would use to describe you
Passionate. I'll give my everything for something I love. So, if I like a language, I'll learn it. If I like a text, an author, or a time, I'll find out almost everything there is to...

a sapphic short story

They had been friends for as long as they could remember. Running around at the age of 5 and playing in the rain at the age of 7. Braiding each other's hair at the age of 9 and failing miserably at baking cookies at the age of 12. They were inseparable. It wasn't unusual for people to mistake them for sisters! But after being apart for a lot more than 40 days, they were more than happy to see each other again. It was supposed to be intimate, small, simple... The local park, why not? The singing of birds as well as the fresh air wouldn't be a bother at all, even though those two had a lot of catching up to do. But it was a lot more than talking. It was looking into each other's eyes. Feeling one's hand against the other, or even better: each other's heat against one another. The beating heart of a flame that had never...

Contemplating Insanity

I miss loving and I miss being loved.
I miss feeling someone's arms around me, keeping me warm at night.
I miss waking up in the morning next to someone.
Someone who stayed.

I miss feeling someone's skin against mine.
Little touches and caresses and cuddles.
Lazy sunday mornings and late working nights.
Some newly brewed coffee and camomile tea.

I miss your voice.
Your hair.
Your eyes.
You.
And you alone.

Completely alone
In my illusions.
My insanity.
Because how can I miss something
I have never lived?

This I Believe

you are the truth

I already knew, when I was a child, what pain and loneliness were. I cried, I grieved and I suffered more than I'd care to admit. But with time, along that lonely road, I came to realise something, a pearl of empirical wisdom: don't live for others.
Your life is yours and you should decide what you want to do with it because nothing is eternal: it can be the things you do or the people you do them for. They'll all go away eventually, like everything in life. Like the trees that die in winter only to be reborn anew, but not quite the same, in spring. Maya Angelou once said people will never forget how you made them feel. So I ask you: how do you make yourself feel?

You are the only person who is going to be in your life from start to finish
you should live for you
take care of you

Never forget ...

Ancestors Speak

Underground Resistance

My grandfather was part of the military. Many of his compatriots came from wealthy families and had never had to worry about being clothed or fed. But my grandfather did. He only integrated the military because it came with many premiums (family, housing...), and not because he wanted to "serve his country the best way he knew how". After the military coup of 1964, the world around him darkened. His friends from left-wing political parties and their families started to disappear. Some turned out to be dead ; a few came home not quite alive ; and some didn't come back at all. 

He had to do something.

So one night he called the people he trusted the most, to whom he was united by blood and belief. His family. They all gathered and decided they could no longer watch while their country was torn to pieces. He gathered with the poets and the musicians and started writing: "Maybe we'll...

The Woman behind the curtain

She's the kind of person who's always serious and collected ; the one you want to please.  
She's the kind of person who's always looking after you, with discreet smiles and looks.
She's the kind of person who always pushes you to do better.  
She's the kind of person who has kindness at heart.
She's the mentor you'd like to have as a friend.

The Circle

We gathered in a circle, just like we used to so long ago. The 5 remaining of us, looking, examining rather, each other's pale, wrinkled and flaccid complexions. So much white, not so much hair. I don't believe we saw the years go by: the children played their innocence away, we cried our guards down, and those who cried before us returned to their primordial state: dust. Who would have guessed that out of all of us, we'd be the ones to last until the end? So much missed, yet so much lived. So many missed, yet so many lived. I feel the wind contradicting itself: North, South, future, past... all of them present. I remember my Ancient History filled with young and spontaneous moments. However, what comes to mind is another kind of memory. 

It was summer, the only time I got to spend time with my dad. I had barely turned 6 and he was quite keen on me...

She didn't breathe anymore, and so didn't you

A dream that will need
All the love you can give
Everyday of your life
For as long as you live


Your voice breaks at the last word. You feel a lump in your throat, which seems to be stopping you from singing along. Your eyesight becomes blurry. You smile through the tears. You carry on with the act. Act? More like... hope. Hope she'd get better. Hope she wouldn't notice your smiles: much more forced and much less frequent. You start to wonder wether you do it for her, or for you.

Something pulls you back to reality: a pair of small delicate hands pulling on your jumper. "Don't do that" you hear her say. You nod and you stare. She was so beautiful. The song was coming to it's end. She seemed tired. You climb on the bed and you lay next to her. She snuggles in and you kiss her forehead. A kiss-goodbye. Her eyelids fluttered slowly...