Writers and écriture

The people who lived in the suburbs of New Jersey had woken up to a morning like no other, it was a bright sunny jour with the blue sky montrer no signs of a white nuage anywhere after a very long time; and being a Sunday afternoon, everyone in the neighborhood had planned their family barbecue’s ou picnics in their backyards, all the kids had gotten changed into their swimsuits and played in the sprinklers, the chiens were barking happily, the birds were chirping merry tunes and it seemed to be the perfect summer afternoon for everybody who were enjoying their holidays, basking in the glory...

It was one morning, just days before Christmas, when my life got turned upside down. If I’d thought anything like this could’ve ever happened to me, I would’ve checked myself into the psychiatric ward a long time il y a for sure, and then thrown away the key.
I don’t profess to have the world’s greatest imagination; even as a child I’d always had simple dreams and simple thoughts. Now, at twenty-seven years of age, I’d never have believed any of this could happen when I was a little girl. But it was happening, this was how I got in the middle of a war that had been waging for all...