“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 :
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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 :
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Momo in the Museum of Time // UNIGE
Les Zones Désignées // Scène Active
Partitions Stachura // Prison Bois Mermet
Drugs, Violence and Fairytales // UNIGE
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Plays written mainly by me
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Le Prince Léo // Chorale de Rivaz
The Coffee Machine // Specta(c)tor
Werewolves // UNIGE
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Plays written entirely by me
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La Nonne de Plastique // Atelier d'Écriture POCHE /GVE