Writing and Chocolate ice cream


Sometimes writing feels like dipping your fingers in chocolate ice cream

It’s delicious till you can’t stand it

It’s sweet till you can’t eat it

It makes you happy till it makes you sick

It’s happening to me right now as I am in process of re-reading my manuscript. It’s not so much about the story, it’s more about finding the right word, organizing paragraphs, crossing off lines, writing differently. I love it tille I hate it.

So I stop, take a pause, find something else to do, till the passion is back and the paper is not a threat anymore.

And you, how do you see writing? Is it always easy or do you find yourself lost from time to time?


Never stop writing…


I used to write in English every day. I miss writing in English.

I love writing in French too. But it’s not the same. I miss the connection with something different, something that told me at some stage “you’re free”.

Maybe it has to do with not mastering all grammatical issues in this second language. In French it feels like I have to follow established rules and this triggers a bit the soul of what I want to say, of the stories I want to tell.

Anyway, this year I decided to write more, to write every day. Not for long, just 2, 5 or 10 minutes every day.

I already wrote 32 short stories, thoughts, poems, words…

I think I will keep doing it in French and I will start doing it in English here. I will let words, quotes, photos inspire me. I will let go and let God guide me on the road…

Till then, take care, love life, live fully every moment and smile!

What writing means to me…


Reading Anne Lamott makes you think. Of life and writing. Of mess, pain, darkness, craziness and…

On what writing means to you.

After finishing one of the chapters of “bird by bird”, I started thinking about what writing is for me.

It’s like breathing.

It’s like finding my voice.

It’s like looking inside, searching inside, catching a glimpse of what makes me sad, what is torturing me, what makes me want to shout out loud, what gives me goosebumps, what kills me and what makes me alive. All in once.

It’s like sharing, being part of the solution (whatever the question – doubt – worry is).

It’s like being authentic, letting go.

It’s like treasuring the silence.

It’s like talking over a warm coffee on a cold Saturday morning.

It feels like crying sometimes, losing battles or catching emptiness in the midst of chaotic days.

It’s like being human and celebrating life.

It’s like finding my balance, my truth.

It’s like acknowledging that I am a mess somedays and full of hope others.

It’s like peace at the end of a long ride.

It’s like touching my dark side.

It’s like healing, grieving, standing up and dancing at the sound of victory.

It’s a way to say Thank you. To the World. To God.

It’s like talking to God, talking to pain, talking to every single life I encounter.

I don’t always know what to say, how to say it. I am not always true to myself, to you. Somedays I’d rather like be somebody else, using others words and style. Till I set the alarm clock and take some rest, look around and decide that whatever happen in this world, I have this chance to be who I am and to be alive. As I stop, I take a deep breath. It’s time for me to open a note book and scribble down my thoughts on writing and what it takes to follow one’s dream.

What about you? What writing means for you?

Do you know Anne Lamott?

The urge to write – From darkness to light

You know this urge, the one that nothing seems able to stop, and the one that keeps you awake till the morning like – the urge to write and empty yourself on the paper in front of you.

I felt it, just after Paris Attacks last November. I could not breathe without my pen in my hand and my heart wide opened to let go of all the pain inside me. I could not go out without fear attached to every part of my body. I could not make sense of all this blood on the pavements, all this craziness.

So I did the only thing I could do to overcome the painful sadness, the ugly anger. I kept writing till there was nothing left to say, to understand, to empty, to say, to shout out loud. I kept writing and re-writing and changing things and creating images in my mind. Typing and coming to terms with my own weaknesses, my dark side. Writing and finding the Light again.

Six months later I have it in my hands – my second poetry book. All is there. All that I want to tell you. All that I want to share, for a better and brighter world. I won’t let darkness, shadows, violence or hatred kill my faith and my ideals, my freedom and my love for Life and People. I’ll always stand up for what I believe in and what I wish to create, with my words, my voice and my life.

All the profits will go to a French Charity organization, created by the mother of a military man killed in 2012 by a terrorist. She is working with kids and young adults, visiting schools and prisons, promoting interreligious dialogue, peaceful coexistence and fighting against radicalization.


I wonder whether I should try to get these poems translated in English. It’s quite delicate. As words come in one language or the other. I don’t choose. In the meantime, feel free to share the love, peace and light that you and the world deserve!

Social Media – Love / Hate relationship

Some days, I can spend hours reading amazing blog posts written by fabulous writers, scroll my Facebook and Instagram news feeds, watch great videos and learn new things.

Some other days, I can’t stand this non-ending flow of inforation, words, details, images, status, links to follow, comments to write.

Some days, I feel blessed to be able to connect with many lovely ladies and guys from all over the world – We are sharing so much together.

Some other days, I feel like I’m missing something right here, right now.

Some days, I wish to take in more wisdom, to celebrate life with you, you and you. I feel balanced and at peace. I feel new technologies have a beautiful way to change our lives (for the better).

Some othe days, I turn off all devices. I am looking for less noise around me and in me. I come to believe that all these technologies are pushing me the wrong way. I wish I could live without. I’m about to cancel all my accounts. I am losing my mind.


This is a never ending circle of love and hate relationship. When I catch myself spending a bus trip, my eyes stuck on my phone screen, I am about to scream.

And then I remember – You and I, we created such a special bond through our words. I recieve your love, support, kindness with a smile on my face. Sometime you even write them down on paper and I recieve them with great joy in my letterbox. Magical! Without Internet, We’d have never met. You: Crazy Amazing Beautiful Great Wise Loving friends.

With and without. With the best of it. Without, when I am losing track of my own footsteps on the ground.

Tell me, what is your relationship with blogs and social medias? Are you good at finding the right balance? Did you find it already? Or are you still searching for it?

Credit Image – Rubric

The core of my writing

Writing is inspiring

It is taking you to spaces

And places

You’ve never imagined

You could reach one day

Writing is taking you

By surprise

Every time you witness

A beautiful sky

Or a tender touch

On your shoulder

Writing is showing you the world

Through others eyes

You travel around

With compassion

And an open heart

Ready to experience

The magnificence of life

Writing is like dancing

Letting the body draw different curves

And not so straight lines

Letting the body touch earth

With an open mind

Writing feels like

Talking to the angels

And yet

Being fully alive


Two “crazy” girls!

So, what about these two crazy girls?

I call them “the girls” or “my girls”

They were 3 & 5 years old when I met them for the first time. I was leaving France to be an Au Pair in Ireland.

The first months were terrible. They could not stop begging for the previous Au Pair to come back. I was left on the side.

I remember this year as one of the most challenging yet the most fabulous one.

It was challenging to look after two little girls, to get used to a new kind of education, to understand and speak a new language, to find my place in a family and outside.

It was fabulous, cause with time, the girls and I, got used to each other and had much fun. I met sweet and lovely boys and girls. I did party more than I ever used to. I felt in love. I let love go. I travelled and enjoyed every day.

It was challenging when one of my best friend lost her dad, challenging when my grandad passed away.

It was fabulous to be able to express myself in a new language and be free, free and safe, free and at peace, free and dancing.


I stayed Au Pair one year. And I lived in Ireland five more years after this introduction year. I was part of their everyday lives. I was blessed to see them growing up. I was there every time a new Au Pair would show up in their lives. We were sharing something special. I was there for first day class in September and for Holy Communions, for Birthday and Pyjama Parties.

I spent my last days in Ireland with them. Their smiling faces got rid of the tears on mine. They are “my princesses”, “my girls”.

Two weeks ago, I took the plane again, back to Dublin. All the sad years are nothing compared to the love for this place, compared to friends & these two girls, now in their teenage years.

I arrived late and the keys were in the flower pot outside. This is my family across the sea. When I arrive in their place, I feel at home. In the morning, I woke up early and when I went down the stairs, I heard their footsteps. They rushed into my arms. I felt blessed.

Credit Image – Eleanor Bridge

Airport Memories

I remember…

August 2006

Time to say goodbye. My life was about to change. For the best. And the worst. And the best again. You never know what Life is going to be. You only have to go with the flow. Wait and see. Then take action and do the best to be happy.

A sunny morning, at the airport (France). I had two bags, my family and my three best friends with me. I was about to make a step into an unknown world.

On the other side of the sea, two little girls were getting ready to welcome me.

I don’t have much left of this day, only memories, a photo, something inside my chest telling me “you’re crazy”. And many worries.

On the other side of the sea, the two girls were waiting, in a different airport, not sure whether they would like me.

I can still see myself, face against the airplane window, looking outside, at the tarmac, trying to relax and not understanding a word. I think I slept during the flight.

I did not know yet that I would do this trip many times; that I would go and come back to a place I would call mine.

My feet on the ground, in a stranger land. I could hear and feel my heartbeat. You would never know, till you experience it, how much two girls can be that scary!

And then the last line, past the luggage reclaims area, past customs. The rest of the world as you know it stays behind. You are playing with a range of new feelings and emotions.

I did not know that ten years later, I would do the same trip and meet two wonderful teenagers, waiting to welcome me.

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Down memory lane

As I was changing my blog theme and scrolling through old posts, I stopped for a while to think about the beginning of this adventure.


It started with a blog called “The color of our skin”. I wanted to show people that two people from different backgrounds, different skin colors, and different religions could love each other. I thought it was Love. Till I realized it was manipulation and violence.

How can you mix both? How can you take one for the other, when Love is Light and Manipulation is Darkness? How can you be so wrong about somebody? How can you take selfishness for an excess of sensibility?

In between, I got married and travelled to Egypt. I said “Yes” thinking “No” but reassuring myself that after marriage things will get much better, that he will be happy at last. And his happiness will make me a different person. I got good at convincing myself that I was ready for this life, that I was ready for Egypt, that I was ready for solitude.

My blog name changed. I was now “A heart in transit”. I was between two lives: between Egypt and Ireland / between an old version of myself and this “new me” that I was building to face the challenges of my marriage.

How can you change so much to please someone? How can you lose yourself, lose your way, lose your mind? How you can live with so little self-love? How can you accept to be treated like a carpet and think that you just deserve what you get?

One night, I said “no more”. I was five months pregnant and I decided to leave. Leave Ireland. Leave my flat. Leave my friends. Leave my job. Leave my miserable life. In less than 72 hours, I packed one suitcase and with fear attached to every part of my being, I flew back to France.

Just before this, I changed my blog name to “Let It Be”. I was trying my best to stick to the life I had chosen. But it was too hard. Too much silence. Too many harsh words. Too much pain. I was a ghost in my own body, an empty mind. I was still trying to make it work, when everything around was telling me that it was not worth it. Too many lies. Too many threats.

How can you lose track of who you are? How can you change so much that when you look at yourself in the mirror, you see a stranger? How can somebody destroy you? How can you let somebody destroy you?

Back in France. Back to life. Back to who I am, to who I was before all this mess. Back to me, to my roots, to my dreams. Back to my laughs and my joys.

My blog helped me on the crazy road. My readers were there in time of hardships, supporting me with their words and their love. They never let go of my hands. One day, it was time to move on. And I changed my blog name again. It became “Mahshi & Marshmallow”. Two treats / Two parts of my little boy story / Two sides of me.

The Story Behind the Book

I am a writer.

When people ask, I tell them that I write as I breathe.

It’s essential to me.

I look at the world around me. And the world inspires me.

Now being an edited writer is another story.

We all have the desire to one day get the chance to hold in our hands our first book.

It might not be our best book. But at least it’s the first one, the first step towards our dreams. It’s taking the chance to make them come true.

And we all know that for dreams to come true, we do need to do something. Sitting down comfortably on our sofa won’t make it happen.

So we ought to try, to take the plunge.

And it’s hard. Cause with the first step we take, we walk into unknown territory. And it’s scary. Crazy scary.

So we can decide to give up.

Or try. We never know where we’re going. We never know if it’s going to work. We don’t have a clue whether people will love it or not, support us or not. But we do know that if we don’t make it, we’ll spend the rest of our lives with regrets. And regrets are not the best buddies ever. They are total nightmares.

Back in May, I decided it was time for me.

I started writing my first French Poetry Book.


I already had a couple of poems. I spent time editing them, rewriting them. I created new ones. I looked for a title.

I especially wanted to share with my readers how light can overcome darkness, how much love can change somebody’s life. This book is about my, but it can be your, journey from stormy days to sunny ones, from crazy hours to friendly ones. It is talking about war, joy, passion, love, violence and peace. It is talking about how gratitude can show you how blessed you are despite the pain, despite deep suffering. It is talking about prayer, women power, about writing and its healing power. It is saying that nobody can totally destroy who you are inside. God dwells inside you, as you and nobody can destroy God.

It’s called “l’essence de l’être”, which can be translated as “the essence of being”.

And at the end of it, there are a couple of lines that say to you: