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“Zak, it isn’t a question of strength.” Clarice said. “There are strange forces in the wilderness. When you enter it, you never return. The wilderness attracts you in with illusions, and then, before you realise it, it
ensnares you in a terrible darkness full of suffering. You know this – the Map Readers and we the Storytellers have been telling you since the day you were born.”


Zak shuddered. He knew the stories of the wilderness that were told to the children from the youngest age. But Clarice was a storyteller, and she could make the stories come to life. Clarice’s eyes glazed over as she started to tell the story, as she naturally entered a storyteller’s trance. Her voice changed. Zak suddenly felt as though someone else was speaking with her voice. He flinched away slightly.


She continued.


Other writing projects which will soon appear in this section :

Poème // La Petite Boîte de Sentiments

Poème // Le bateau en papier

Article // New Internationalist // On the road from Guyana to Brazil

Poème // Thoughts about city animals

Témoignage // The woman I never saw

Short play extract// La Nonne de Plastique

NAB : Nyan's Anonymous Blog


Plays resulting from my stage-writing frameworks while also including passages I've written :

Momo in the Museum of Time // UNIGE

Les Zones Désignées // Scène Active

Partitions Stachura // Prison Bois Mermet

Drugs, Violence and Fairytales // UNIGE

Plays written mainly by me

Le Prince Léo // Chorale de Rivaz

The Coffee Machine // Specta(c)tor

Werewolves // UNIGE

Plays written entirely by me

La Nonne de Plastique // Atelier d'Écriture POCHE /GVE

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