Sometimes, my nights are too full - overflowing with dreams that scratch at the door of my mind.

And then I find myself, almost pitiful, holding my dreams in the palms of my hands, not knowing what to do with them.
Should I share these stories, these images my mind creates without asking for my permission?
Or should I keep them to myself - a secret place only my soul and I can reach?
I'm never quite sure.

Sometimes, though, my insomnia feels too heavy to carry alone.
So I choose to release what keeps the moon from shining on what should be resting -
through ink on paper.

🕯️ A French author deciding to open her world to English readers.
✨ Writing between reality and reverie, where sleepless thoughts find a home.
🌙 Ink is my escape, and words are how I breathe.