Un sang d'encre
- Reads 42
- Votes 3
- Parts 1
Ongoing7m
Last published Sun, Mar 22, 2020
"Je soupirai et me pris la tête entre les mains. Autant abandonner. Cela ne servait à rien. Je m'installai plus profondément au fond de mon siège et fixai la feuille blanche face à moi. Vide. Rien du tout. Vide de mot. Vide de sens. Vide, vide et encore VIDE ! Je hurlai ces derniers mots. Le son de mon cri résonna longtemps dans la pièce comme l'écho incessant de mon échec. "
Que faire quand votre propre personnage vous montre les fêlures de votre oeuvre. Quand il se moque, quand il rie, quand il dénigre votre vie. Elle est auteure. Mais ce n'est pas elle qui tient les ficelles.
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