We shall rise


Imagine when you’ll become an ancestor to the youth, and the kids will stare at you with eyes wide open, and blurt: « So you lived through 2020?! You saw the big shift in those years, you were there! » Yes, we were there. It was hell, we’ve let it happen, but then… Then we sabotaged the machine. We stopped believing in what the white fathers named progress and we looked for progress elsewhere. In the ecosystem around us. And in our own heart. And then kids, that’s when a forest of hearts rose.

{see on instagram}



Enheduanna… This name is so important. This name was the first signature, ever known to human history, of an author.
The first known author was a woman.
The first text ever signed was a poem composed by a Sumerian princess and High Priestess, that she dedicated to the goddess Inanna. (later known under the name of Ishtar, both related to the planet Venus)
Every time I think of it, every time I whisper Enheduanna’s name… I enter into an altered state, into an emotion almost too strong for my body to bear.

We, authors, poets, artists, « influencers », are used to sign our productions without even thinking. But what pushed the first of us – in the context of her life there – to append her name to the invocation she had just written for the great goddess?
Was it the sense of belonging?
I mean: not as an affirmation that the poem belonged TO herself, but instead… that she belonged WITH Inanna/Ishtar/Venus through her poem…
What brings me to this thought comes not only from the fact that Enheduanna composed it while in despair for being exiled from Ur, but also due to the diverse translations of Inannna’s title in it. Her invocation – Nin me šar-ra… – happens to be translated or as the great mistress of « all the I/me/selves and others/rivals » (« all too numerous to count »), or as the great mistress of all the divine powers. As if… me, the others, the divine powers… it was one and same concept in Sumerian.
The sense of belonging with the Divine sparkles at the core of this idea. Nin me šar-ra.

Nowadays, what do we invoke through our signature? Which flow does our sense of belonging follow?

Nin me šar-ra…
Nin me šar-ra ud dalla e-a
Munus zid me-lem gur-ru ki aĝ an uraš-a…

Enheduanna, zirru-priestess, companion of the Moon god Nanna, daughter of Sargon the king of the world, in the temple of the goddess Innana…
En hedu anna
Capture d’écran 2020-10-05 à 11.10.38


Journée internationale contre les LGBTQ+phobies

{In English on my Instagram at this link}


Nous sommes des cocktails molotv.
Nous, guerrie.re.s rainbow et sorcières queer, n’estimons plus être une minorité. Voyez nous partout nous lever. Voyez nous partout sortir des placards. Partout faire l’amour.
Vous nous avez donné une bouteille de vodka pour y noyer notre chagrin. Vous nous avez offert cette consolation pour garder votre monde hétéronormatif bien tranquille. Vous pensiez que Cronos continuerait à dévorer ses enfants alcoolisés.
Vous nous avez donné une bouteille de vodka mais nous en avons fait un molotov.
Maintenant… regardez plutôt.


{In English on my Instagram at this link}


Aujourd’hui a lieu une sorte de combo énergétique entre l’ardente célébration de Beltane, la journée internationale des travailleurs, le jour de la Tara Verte et de Sangye Menla…!
Il y a maintenant plusieurs semaines j’avais reçu une vision de l’image ci-dessus. Même si, au début, la figure au premier plan était une jeune fille aborigène. La semaine passée elle s’est transformée en Crone. D’autres détails ont également sûrement changé. Pour une raison inévitable : lorsque je dessine mon plus grand deuil a toujours été de devoir renoncer à l’exacte image qui a surgi dans mon esprit. En laissant une telle image se manifester sur le papier nous pouvons seulement nous en rapprocher mais jamais l’atteindre. Toutefois, des surprises apparaissent. De nouvelles propositions. Et plus tard, lorsque nous y avons enfin donné vie, c’est en prenant du recul que nous pouvons  comprendre son contenu et ses messages.
C’est ce qu’il s’est produit entre moi et cette image ici, parce que je peux désormais la saisir dans son entièreté. Et ce sont là des instants fascinants et nourrissants, toujours.
Pour moi Beltane c’est aussi cela : le sentiment de gratitude pour ce qui éclot de manière aussi inattendue.

Love letter to Bologna

{In Italiano sul mio Instagram a questo link}


Bologna, Bologna, Bologna…
Every day I walk through your streets and yet, you’re absent.
Your porticos are a giant empty ribcage where only the wind slides. The confetti that usually spread everywhere for the graduated students have now disappeared since a while. The protests clamor and the embrace during the activists meetings all seem a distant echo.
This silent city, this isn’t you. You, Bologna, you roar. Your ribcage lives only for screaming slogans and statements at the top of your lungs. For you are a pirate island resisting the patriarchal and capitalist tumult assaulting the world. You’re the feminist anar’ ecolo’ queer punk trans faggot dyke witchy outcast tireless and surefooted crowd. The crowd that doesn’t compromise their values nor when it’s time to dance till dawn.
Bologna Bologna Bologna… Here with this drawing I invoke the present New Moon in Taurus to call upon your powerful soul. Come back to your body. Make the furor rebound on your colorful walls once again. Here’s my love to you.