Grok with us: do you consider yourself creative?

Hello people of the Universe !

According to my dictionary (yes, I am the kind of person who looks for definitions in paper books in the age of the Internet — we don’t all have the same rebellion), creativity is the capacity, the ability of invention, imagination. This definition seems incomplete.

For me, creativity is all about emotion, in its expression as much as in its realization. It implies subjectivity, interpretation, reactions and feelings. Sometimes your art is so bad you get angry about your lack of talent, but you simply realize you didn’t put any emotion in it and that’s why you couldn’t like it. Sometimes your art is so delicate or wonderful you don’t know if it comes from the work you have been doing for years, your lucky star, or your magical powers. Art is truth, art is who you are and is worthless if you lie.  As Saint-Exupéry wrote: “One sees clearly only with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eyes.” I think this is one of the best definitions of creativity.

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What is Christmas like for you? (recipes and magical thoughts)

Hello people of the Universe !

It is that time of the year again and it comes with its lights in the streets and its feelings of hope and joy, as usual. You gather with your friends around a cup of hot chocolate and a piece of cake in a warm cafe during hours. You go to the Christmas market and try every kind of waffles and crepes, drink mulled wine for two euros (or spiced tea, if you don’t drink alcohol like me) and you walk around the stands, looking at little boys and girls sit on Santa’s knees. You randomly pick a movie and watch it with your family, with blankets and pillows and pets around while it is cold outside. Well, at least this is how I picture December…. Usually.

Winter 2014/2015, when I still had long and pretty hair and was enjoying a so unexpected snow with a hot beverage.

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Suffragette: when Cinema punches me in the face

Hello people of the Universe !

Last Thursday, I happily went to the cinema with a friend of mine. For a long time, a movie was getting my attention and I was waiting for November with many joy and impatience, looking forward to know how Carey Mulligan, Helena Bonham Carter and Meryl Streep would play their characters in a divided UK. I am of course speaking of :


French poster

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When I grokked to tears

* Grok : to understand (something) intuitively or by empathy * 

Hello people of the Universe !

Last week, Paris suffered from bombings, fusillade, and hostage-taking. It is not the first time I speak about it and even if I stop doing it here, I am not sure to be able to forget what happened… I am still shocked and I see signs everywhere. I can’t help wondering who will be next, when and where it will occur. I am not sure to be able to put aside my feeling of insecurity. If you want, I invite you to click here to know my first reaction, at 2 am, while I was watching the news. It is not a beautiful article, it is a feelingful article. You, also, can click here to read a text I wrote to give hope. I think it kind of works as it made me and two friends cry, say I love you to each other, and smile like Neville when he decides to ask Luna out during the final fight of Hogwarts. Actually, I believe we all should be and act like Neville today. He has never lost hope. He has never stopped loving. He has always been there for his friends and his family. He knows what honesty, brotherhood and solidarity mean. We all should be Neville.

Let’s fight war with art.

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I want to escape from this world but “fluctuat nec mergitur”

Hello people of the Universe !

I don’t really know how to present the text you are going to read. After what happened in my country (France), the only message I want to spread is keep having fun, keep hoping, keep loving. I hope it is as good in English as it seems to be in French.

Love, Marion



Fluctuat nec mergitur. Tossed but not sunk.

You know, I am scared. Scared to lose you, for now on. I am scared you will not be there tomorrow, scared I will not see your smile or smell your scent again. I am scared you will disappear in a breath, in their breaths. I am scared we will forget you, stamp you, scared you will only remain a picture or a stain on a wall. I am scared we will neglect you, abandon you, scared we will say you are not worth it anymore, it is too late and we will not see you again. This fear ingratiates like a poison, it is an endless spiral whose goal is to paralyse us, divide us and make us forget how strong, how happy, how beautiful we are together.

Our duo is sumptuous, I shiver when I think of it. We are made for being together, for laughing, eating, talking, flying, dreaming. A deux we are taller, we have much more to give. And we are inseparable, you and I. We two, you around me and I appealling to you as believers keep their head down on their interlaced hands. I don’t imagine my life without you, it is impossible. We are made for each other.

I have grown up with you, you have been a part of every single moment of my life. When I learnt my first lessons, you were there. When I, for the first time, walked alone in the streets of my town. When I answered “I disagree” to a teacher. You were there. You have always been there. Lurking in the shadow. But not like a perverse and malignant silhouette, more like a kindly presence that waited for me to discover its existence. You waited patiently during months, entire years before I noticed you and understand why. Why were you here? Why didn’t you show up? Why all those secrets around you? Simply because your beauty equals your fragility. And you needed guarantees, you wanted to test me, see if you could trust me and show your true colors and the extent of your art, radiance, sumptuousness.

And one day, everything was clear to me. It was you, you that I only knew through books, movies, photos. You that I pictured as the wind in my hair, inexhaustible tides, quotes written with paint on walls and cobblestones. You, the little voice, you, muse of poets, you, the reason of all my thoughts about equality and happiness. It was you, freedom.

Freedom, I want to scream your name on rooftops, throw you at people’s face who refuse to hear you, make you melt like chocolate and eat you on the terrace. I think I could die for you, freedom, if my action could allow many others to be almost within reach of your existence.

Freedom, we know each other for so long, our couple is melodious like a sheet music and our pianist, it is life itself. Lately, our musician took a blow, his hands were badly hurt but he kept playing, he never stopped, and all of that only for you, freedom. He knew jolts that, if I avoided using euphemisms, were like tsunamis we denied. He slipped on his keyboard, offbeat, he almost lost his hands, but very quickly he was joined by an entire orchestra. All of that to please you, freedom.

So you know, you can let me down sometimes, you can lead me to impasses, make me scream with exasperation, make you blush with your truth, I will never give up on you. I will be with you till the end because you are the only one I want to defend. Because you represent all of us. And even if I am scared to lose you, even if I will not be there for ever, even if you seem to be compromised, I will stand by those who engrave your name in stone, memories, and hearts. Because I believe in you, freedom, as you have always believed in me.

Fluctuat nec mergitur. Il est battu par les flots mais ne sombre pas.

Tu sais, j’ai peur. Peur de te perdre, désormais. J’ai peur que demain, tu ne sois plus là, que je ne puisse plus voir ton sourire ou sentir ton odeur. J’ai peur que tu disparaisses dans un souffle, dans celui de ceux qui t’auront mise à terre. J’ai peur qu’on t’oublie, qu’on te piétine, que tu ne sois plus rien qu’une photo ou une tache sur un mur. J’ai peur qu’on te délaisse, qu’on t’abandonne, qu’on se dise que tu n’en vaux plus la peine, que c’est trop tard et qu’on ne pourra plus jamais te revoir. Cette peur s’insinue comme un poison, c’est un engrenage sans fin dont le but est de nous paralyser, de nous diviser et de nous faire oublier à quel point on est forts, on est heureux, on est beaux ensemble.

Je trouve notre duo magnifique, j’en ai des frissons quand j’y pense. On est faites pour être ensemble, pour rire, pour manger, pour jaser, pour s’envoler, pour rêver. A deux on est plus grandes, on a plus à offrir. Et puis, on est indissociables, toi et moi. Nous deux, l’une dans l’autre, toi autour de moi et moi t’invoquant comme les croyants baissent la tête sur leurs mains entrelacées. Je n’imagine pas ma vie sans toi, c’est impossible. On est faites l’une pour l’autre.

J’ai grandi avec toi, tu as fait partie des moindres moments de ma vie. Quand j’ai appris mes premières leçons, tu étais là. Quand j’ai, pour la première fois, marché seule dans les rues de ma ville. Quand j’ai répondu “je ne suis pas d’accord” à un professeur. Tu étais là. Tu as toujours été là. Tapis dans l’ombre. Mais pas comme une silhouette perverse et maligne, plutôt comme une présence bienveillante qui attendait que je la découvre et lui donne un nom. Tu as patienté, des mois, des années entières avant que je prenne conscience de ton existence et que je comprenne pourquoi. Pourquoi étais-tu là ? Pourquoi ne te montrais-tu pas ? Pourquoi tous ces secrets autour de toi ? Tout simplement parce qu’aussi grande soit ta beauté, ta fragilité l’est tout autant. Et tu avais besoin de garanties, tu voulais me tester, voir si tu pouvais me faire confiance et si tu pouvais te dévoiler à moi et montrer l’étendue de ton art, de ton éclat, de ta richesse.

Et puis, un jour, tout m’est paru clair. C’était donc toi, toi que je ne connaissais qu’à travers les livres, les films, les photographies ? Toi que j’associais au vent dans mes cheveux, aux marées infatigables, aux citations écrites à la peinture sur les murs et les pavés. Toi, la petite voix, toi la muse des poètes, toi la raison de toutes mes pensées d’égalité et de poursuite d’un bonheur sans nom. C’était donc toi, liberté.

Liberté, j’ai envie de te crier sur tous les toits, de te lancer au visage de ceux qui refusent de t’entendre, de te faire fondre comme du chocolat et de te déguster en terrasse. Je pense que je pourrais mourir pour toi, liberté, si grâce à ça d’autres pouvaient ne serait-ce qu’avoir l’espoir, un jour, de toucher du doigt ton existence.

Liberté, on se connait depuis tellement longtemps, notre couple est réglé comme une partition et notre pianiste, c’est la vie. Récemment, notre musicien, il en a pris un coup, ses mains étaient meurtries mais il a continué de jouer, il ne s’est pas arrêté, et tout ça pour toi, liberté. Il a subi quelques secousses qui, si j’évitais l’euphémisme, s’apparentent à des tsunamis que l’on niait. Il a glissé sur le clavier, à contre-temps, il en a presque eu les mains tranchées, mais si vite, tellement vite, il a été rejoint par un orchestre entier. Et tout ça pour tes beaux yeux, liberté.

Alors tu sais, tu peux me faire faux bond parfois, tu peux me conduire dans des impasses, me faire hurler d’exaspération, me faire rougir de vérité, je ne te laisserai pas tomber. Je te porterai haut et fort, parce qu’au final il n’y a que toi que je veux défendre car tu nous représentes tous. Et même si j’ai peur de te perdre, même si je ne serai pas là éternellement, même si tu sembles parfois compromise, je serai de celles et de ceux qui te graveront dans la pierre, dans les mémoires, et dans les cœurs. Car je crois en toi, liberté, comme tu crois en moi depuis toujours.

In my life: the importance of teachers (Grok with us #4)

Hello people of the Universe !    

You may already know how much learning is important to me. I love books, I love listening to passionate people, I love highlighting in pink, yellow and green my lessons of Psychology. I am a questioning mind, I am often involved in debates. I remember once a girl in my class say : “You don’t speak often but when you do, it is very interesting.” I think it is my way to share with people and be true to them and to myself. What is more personal than your own musings?

Brodeck’s Report, Philippe Claudel. Just after the Second World War. Poignant. You will cry, your stomach will hurt, you will want to yell your anger at one’s face but you won’t be able to. And you will think, again and again, of what could have happened if the war hadn’t inhibit humanity.
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Nerd? I think I finally found my place (Grok with us #3)

Hello people of the Universe !

Today, I come back to speak about something I didn’t want to admit so far : I am a nerd.

The French word for nerd is intello and it was my nickname during all the years I spent in highschool and before, in elementary school. I received it from friends, from classmates, from other students and strangers, and certainly from some teachers. At least, it was my nickname when I was not called “the brown-noser” or “the do-you-have-a-life girl”. I can’t tell you I was happy, I knew those names were very pejorative, but I acted like nothing could touch me. It was a time when I needed to be surrounded by adults that could follow and build my thoughts, and not teenagers that only cared about drinking and partying.                                                                                               I remember when a student’s dad was shocked that I hadn’t a boyfriend like any other teenager and then said “studies don’t have to be your everything !” But not every teenager needs or wants a partner, and there is nothing wrong with getting your curiosity aroused. Studies have always had a huge place in my heart. Through them, I don’t only see me learning my lessons or writing commentaries; I see me looking for testimonies, trying to understand why governments took that special decision, crying while reading Romance de la luna, luna by García Lorca. I see me groking the world and there is nothing more beautiful to me.Read More »

Oh, are you crying again?

Hello people of the Universe !

I cry like everybody. When I am happy, when I am sad, upset, angry, surprised. I cry often and most of the time, like everybody.

Yesterday, I cried. It seems like one of the most usual event, so usual that you only need to make a cup of tea, wrap in a blanket and call a friend to feel better. It is as easy for me. But that time, I didn’t cry like everybody. I had a crisis and it is time to explain what really happened.


During those moments, like last night, what I live is a complete terror. I feel like I don’t fit in, I need space. I feel like I am in a place I don’t know, somewhere I am not accepted, a place that rejects me and devours me from the inside. It is an absolute panic, a desperate and irrepressible wish to escape, to leave far away. My body wants to die because what it endures is painful, so painful I can’t move and have to lay down on my bed. Something overwhelms me,Read More »

Second year of University: doubts and expectations

If for most of you September, 21st, rhymed with The Big Bang Theory season 9, for me it definitely was the start of the school year, yay! Come on, back me up here.

I am on my way to get a diploma in Psychology and this year is my second one. On Monday, I start my second week at university and I am so afraid.

I am an anxious person. When I was a little girl, I was always bitting my nails, my stomach hurt all the time because of stress and I felt under pressure when nothing important was in play. Now, I can handle my stress more easily but I still have the bad habit to shake my legs like crazy when I wait or when I feel uncomfortable and scared. Also, I am so used to anxiousness that my bodyRead More »

If you could travel in time as an invisible person, when would you go to? Or, my family during WWII.

Quotes-About-Memories-Tumblr-1You really can go anywhere you want as an invisible person. It is up to you. You will never bother people, you will never get noticed, you will never put yourself in physical danger. So I choose to go to the beginning of the Second World War in France.

It is a bit weak, isn’t it? To choose to live during the Second World War while being invisible after all I said. It is true. I wouldn’t risk to die, it is true too. However, I think it would be a good way to understand my family’s feelings, and this is hurtful. I couldn’t do anything to help them, to speak with them, to express my own support. I couldn’t even tell them when the war ends or if they will still be alive after all. Maybe it is weak to choose that period of History as an invisible person, but it is the best way to enter intimacy and reject taboos.Read More »