nolite te bastardes carborundorum

Message from Writer

read Montaigne and Duras
listen to Brel and Aznavour
get to know Hypatia and Pythagoras

Published Work

Home’s Essence

Fire-red blood stains milk-white skin

the spirit of rolled Rs and burning green tea
surrounded by infinite ever-ageing yellow pages
it made up whole philosophies in only two days
one ephemeral thought

we sat on the wooden floor debating the world we could've had
private polyglot jokes with forsaken origins
mere excuses to mix all the languages we never spoke
and die of laughter until our stomachs ached

the never faltering loud chatter and spontaneous out-of-pitch singing
contrasted with unknown birds by day and political protests by night
never did any of them get wrong
the harmony of our body and mind

the komorebi-green leaves gaze into my soul
they ask me what will I do
when I will go
and I find it rather bold of a tree
to think I would forget it so easily
bold of it to assume that any of this
would leave me anytime soon

it hurts to grow up

Tap, read, breathe
you look, but... can you see?
spinning, turning, screaming
why are you crying? it's over, you made it

the door banged shut
widened eyes searching
Desperate foolish girl

the world blurs and the pencil trembles
you have climbed the highest of mountains
the staff of Pride, the embodyment of Victory
weigh you down, crush you under
now you understand
oh, the heart of stone in demand
to be on such a pedestal

white pages empty

you used to use the paper
to pave the ways of your mind
infinite maps of nonsense
to places open only to you

pages and brains empty

your eyes shone the brightest
and you smiled happiness the laudest
but now you're crying the victory
you have always craved

what wouldn't you give to be saved
to come back and be a child again
maybe you have have to pick up that pen
and write once again

write free,...

my supernova (footnotes)

Dancing bears, painted wings
Things I almost remember

I'd like to thank the WtW community for always being so supportive
without you, I would never have picked writing up for real
I would never have become BlueOwl, or Athene
I would've kept being [redacted], just [redacted]

And a song someone sings
Once upon a December

this is a song I love because it mentions my "birthmonth"
it makes me nostalgic about childhood
things I loved and will never have again
glinting eyes and innocence  

Someone holds me safe and warm (...)
Across my memory

yet passion burns and love aches
I haven't lost it all
I am alive and for as long as I write
I will never fall

Far away, long ago
glowing dim as an ember
things my heart used to know
once upon a December

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...