A poem dedicated to Marie Cornu, who was tried during the European witch hunt.Labeled by my Devil's markapostasy.No murder, no love.Une victim, une femme.J'adore, Belzébuth.Malavisée, a sorcière.Poème écrit dans la version 2023.Poem written in the summer of 2023.

A poem dedicated to Marie Cornu, who was tried during the European witch hunt.

Labeled by my Devil's markapostasy.No murder, no love.Une victim, une femme.J'adore, Belzébuth.Malavisée, a sorcière.

Poème écrit dans la version 2023.Poe...

the Mystery Behind Missing Socks.Friday: the laundry day. I was about to leave for Montreal when I'd decided to wash my clothes a little earlier than usual so I would have time to pack some items for the trip. When I took the clothes out of the dryer, I laid them out on the bed, and started separating my clothes from my hubby's: a shirt here, a pair of pants there, and the right toe of a sock. I finished separating and folding. Wait. Where did the left toe of that sock go?Here we go again.I usua...

Life has a way of leading us down unexpected paths. I should’ve known better. During my growing up process, I collected memories, places, and people — as everyone else does; they shaped my life with all decisions I have made so far. They had also given me seeds to sow my dreams, which led me to make decisions that came with a hefty price: giving up on each one of them. Ironic, isn’t it? Moving from one country to another is a very confusing fairy tale with the right to castles, dragons, royalty,...