483 - Creative Bubbles 2023

I present to you 5 texts; 4 were composed during creative workshop streams at LucieBulle, and the last one I composed a continuation of the first text, outside the stream. The whole thing was written between September and December 2023 - with a very small correction at the beginning of January.

Note: I used creative commons, royalty-free images.

Fiction bubble of 10/Sep/2023

Words to use: bench, book, flower, cloud and twilight

Magalie at the Parc

At the end of this autumn day, Magalie wanted only one thing: to rest after a busy day at work. She loved her job as a librarian; cataloging books is certainly fun, but fastidious.

Talking about books with her colleagues or suggesting them to various readers visiting the library is enriching, but her other tasks are heavy with responsibility and she needed to take her mind off things.

So, when she left work, she decided to take a walk before returning home. Her walk took her to a metal gate.

The smell of a multitude of flowers reached her nostrils, and she realized she was in front of the plant garden, where she sat on a bench, contemplating her future while looking at the clouds.

Who knows, maybe they would contain some wisdom she was looking for?

Inspiration refused to whisper answers to her many questions, which she even had difficulty formulating.

Dusk falls, it'll be night, soon. Magalie got up, it was time to take the path that leads to her home, her haven of peace.

What about her questions and answers? She doesn't know anything about it at the moment; everything will have to wait.

Poetic bubble 18/Oct/2023

What are your punctuations?

Ideas come in abundance.

Long sentences are formed

as the words flow

from the brain to the fingers, on the express route

attempting a straightforward journey,

nevertheless causing traffic jams of many letters!

It is absolutely necessary to separate them, make them more visible

these cars would be an absolute mess! 

So, punctuation separates certain passages;

high beams in front of vehicles, these words

who must wait their turn to advance after a comma,

like a give way allowing light breathing,

a semicolon dividing a sentence; like the orange light is half a sentence of movement.

The point is both red light. Stop. But also green light, we move on to the next sentence.

The car restarted and set off on its way

Fiction bubble, 15/Nov/2023

Virginia's Awakening

That morning, Virginie knew what she had to do. During the night, she had not closed her eyes, and kept tossing and turning in her bed; she was experiencing a sort of fever, as her thoughts systematically and invariably brought her back to her painful past.

The sensations came to the surface and became as real as they had been during her difficult experiences. The present gave way, the memories were there, in front of her, and it was for this reason that her brain was boiling. So, obviously, there was no way she's fall asleep.

She certainly felt more alone than ever – her friends were of no help, and everything hurt, very badly. Past images flashed in her head, before her eyes, like a film, in technicolor. ''No, it's not me, but a character who is going through all that''! Was her first reaction. Out of self-defense instinct, she no longer wanted to believe in her past. ''I thought it was me, but in fact, I had mixed it up with this film, the memory of which was buried, that's all''.

But, as the hours passed and the sandman still did not come, despite her great fatigue; she realized, little by little, the reality:the character in the film was indeed her, Virginie, and no one else.

Her fever subsided, but the boiling continued, directed towards ways to improve her daily life.

One thing led to another, she began to accept this reality, and while yawning, a decision formed within her: to change her life, she absolutely must go far away, cut all ties with this past and the people who lived there, and go away. Elsewhere, she could meet new people and have other opportunities, totally absent here and now.

Virginie was therefore determined to make a clean slate. But the decision, which she probably thought was even more important than the change of scenery, was to seek help, this time from professionals. Yes, this morning was a new start, and she knew exactly what she had to do.

Poetic bubble 30//Nov/2023

Based on Que vous racontent les oiseaux V2: une Ode aux oiseaux (which means : What the birds tell you V2: an Ode to birds) I hightly adapted to include rhymes - thought not at the same rhythm and order as they'd been in the French versions.

An Ode to Birds – V3, based on my French Ode aux Oiseaux, V2, but highly adapted

What majesty to fly so high in the air, I am hypnotized!

You flap your wings in unison, troops so harmonized!

I count you, Storks, but there are so many of you high up!

Your troops fill the skies.

My binoculars certainly bring your image closer to my eyes,

but do not help distinguish your individuals; once more, I add you up.

You know what ? Storks? You are not alone; unescorted

to sail there, above my head, dancing before each eye in flocks;

so many birds of prey passed by, these buzzards, falcons, hawks,

using hot air currents, without even getting fitted;

Talents defying our planet's gravity, this is queer!

Oh, You expressed so much majesty and patience, real freedoms! It's clear!

You offered me whole hours of acrobatic shows in formation,

but also rebellious sparks, with initiatory ramification.

And when you weren't birds flying high,

other times you were owls, blinking each appraising eye,

turning your heads, not getting a stiff neck, what magic, what amazement!

Your curiosity about my presence didn't scare you in any guessed percent.

Did you know that I meant no harm and admired you without approaching,

while you were on tree trunks and branches, or on those rocks, always perching?

Ah, but you, songbirds, offered music, without impurity;

melodious songs, asking for no other return than safety !

If only humans could your example pursue,

not monetizing every moment, and thus live anew!

Thank you to every bird, small, large, flying or not,

for the many moments in your company,

especially during recess,

playing so rarely with friends, most often far from their business,

or even when I skipped classes – a mea-culpa this is naught

And this during such an adult, lonely and sad youth!

Continuation of the fiction buble of September 10, 2023, composed 11/12/2023 outside of stream very slightly extended and corrected on 01/6/2024

Eureka?

Sleep is advice, everyone says it. When she woke up, two ideas flashed in her brain, real lightning bolts that electrified her from head to toe!

But, I never asked myself these questions, however! I wanted to find clues in the clouds yesterday, but now... now, two obvious facts are placed before me, like Pandora's boxes.

Do I really have to open them? I no longer have a choice, I must accept these truths and record them in my memory – just like in this diary; that is what they are for, someone in whom everything can be confessed and entrusted, without fearing the deception of inanimate objects.

I was already wrong calling myself Magalie and composing in the third person, I must reaffirm myself.

The first truth I must admit is that my name is not Magalie. I thought that by inventing a new identity, I would find one, identity. After all, as a child I kept changing names, and I never chose them. What is my first name? Lucie, obviously.

Secondly, I also realize that I was getting carried away with my job's title, even though my tasks and responsibilities are very similar to it. I'm not a librarian, oh no, the authorities reserve this title for the Nobility of Competition Holders! I don't do that, even though cataloging no longer has any secrets for me; that the Professors (also a Nobility) and their students congratulated me on many occasions for my abilities and help which were precious to them, they always said. Precious.

Without Competition, I am far from the Nobility, I am a peasant-librarian. This is the real term that we should use, instead of library storekeeper (in fact, that sounds a bit, how should I put it? Too down-to-earth? Too je ne sais quoi, a store? This is a library, common !), nor assistant librarian, when I do the work (ok, I concede, dear diary, I have used lists and more lists), nor facilitator, I am not an actress but a peasant- librarian.

But then, if I already have two answers to questions that I didn't ask (I should have, I know, dear diary, I know), what will happen to those formulated and verbalized? How long will I wait to see things more clearly? Oh diary, can you answer me? Oh no, you're inanimate and that's a shame.