My Special Angel

    I won’t forget this day, the accident. It was the 4th of July 2006.  It’s late, but nothing must interrupt the course of my supreme meditations. Writers are like spiders which produce great works by the meticulous spinning forth of their entrails. I must remember...

I was born free, and will never lose my freedom…

 Love, lust, heat, passion, perfume, explosions…. An incorrigible graphomania, caught me one day in its invisible network, a network in which the writer, when she writes with her soul, without trying to pretend what she is not, despite all what other could think...