There’s an itch under her skin

A restlessness that burns

Coffee in her stomach, stars in her vision

She’s good at this game and she’ll win the prize – bones under skin and happiness, surely


She smiles and shakes her head

I eat like a bird, she says

But birds have rounded bellies

And she marvels at the downward curves of hers at night, her hunger grumbling like a victory


Numbers might elude her

Still she counts all day

That many, that much,

Just enough to stand and walk and talk, just enough to escape the worried scrutiny


She’s the walking dead

She’s the starved wolf

She’ll learn to howl someday, perhaps she’ll stop counting too

But she’ll never forget the thrill of raised ribs drowned in coffee



On grey hair and autumn

It’s just a handful of them, hidden on my temples. You have to know they’re here to spot them: strikingly white against my otherwise dark brown hair. It’s like a small whisper in the back of my head, quiet, calm, but always there.

I’m getting old.

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On responsibility and wanting to change people

I don’t like conflict. I never have. I have awful memories of Sunday afternoons spent at my grandmother’s, where she would say the most hurtful things she could think of and my parents would finally blow up, and my brother and I would try to swallow pieces of cake through our tears. It was all part of a well-known scenario, and I hated every damn second of it. My grandmother had a shit ton of unresolved issues, and my mixed memories of her probably have played a part in shaping the way I deal with conflict.

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On meditation, celery juice and over-hyped trends

I’m getting kind of tired of seeing the miraculous benefits of yoga, meditation, goji berries and celery juice. Or worse, water fasting.

No because I think there’s anything wrong with any of those, mind you (ok water fasting is a terrible idea, to be fair. Don’t do it). I even like some of them. But because people latch on one thing to magically cure all of their ailments for six months, and then they move on to the next thing and will swear to you that, no, really, you have to drink coffee with melted butter in it if you want to achieve anything in life. Which sounds both disgusting (I love coffee, I love butter –duh, I’m French- but please stop that madness) and completely irrational, because it is. Read more

On living fully – or the General Wolf Rules for Life

If you haven’t read ‘Women who run with wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype‘ by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, you should. Like right now. It’s brilliant, it’s liberating, it’s deep. I loved it, and a lot of things spoke to me. One thing in particular stuck with me: the general wolf rules for life.

I’m not telling you what they will mean for you – just what they mean to me, how I interpret them and make them a part of my life.

So, what are those rules anyway?

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On bras, wrinkles and the beauty myth

When my oldest daughter was 7, she saw me painstakingly removing stray hair on my legs, and she asked ‘why are you doing this?’ and I couldn’t find any good, logical answer to give her. It’s been 3 years and I still haven’t one.

Last week my youngest, who’s almost 7, asked me if girls had to get their ears pierced. I told her that they didn’t had to, they could choose to if they wanted to. She nodded and whispered ‘I’m never doing it’, and I was strangely happy with her answer. Read more

On social media

“I am never going to look back on my life, or on my year, and think, I wish that I had spent more time online.” Genevieve Sadleir

I have no idea who Genevieve is (if you do know, please leave a comment), but she’s obviously a very smart and insightful woman, and I think she’s got it quite right.

Since writing this post on virtual clutter, I’ve gone further and deleted my Twitter account entirely. It was way too time-consuming, and I disliked both the content (or most of it, between echo chambers and shouting matches there were a few interesting exchanges) and how it made me feel and behave. I felt increasingly sarcastic and bitter, and my optimism and faith in humanity were dwindling. I decided to quit after two weeks of reflection.

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On tangerine candles and family traditions

My father has always made tangerine candles around Christmas time. He learned how to make them from his own father, simply with sunflower oil (a cheap and common oil here in France) and tangerine peels.

There was something magical about them for me as a child. The way my father carefully carved the tangerine. The way its tiny flame would glow through the fine peel, casting orange tinted light on our the dinner table. The way it smelled, sweet and tart. Now I make them too, and my children love them just as I do.

It takes some work to get them right…

Very careful carving!

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Some news!

As some of you know, I write. Lately I’ve written quite a lot of poetry, and decided to publish it – terrifying it might be, but sometimes you need to get out of your comfort zone to live fully!

In Cold Blue Light is now available on Amazon! I will give €1 to the Surf Rider Foundation for each ebook sold (full disclosure, it’s 50% of what Amazon will pay me, before taxes)!

If you get it, I would love to know what you thought of it, good and bad! Thanks!!

I’ve also added a Buy Me a Coffee button in the footnote of my blog… any support is welcome to help me create better content & write more!