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Documenter son quotidien par la poésie

Documenting your daily life through poetry

"We are made of what we see, the places we go to, but also what we hear about. The narrative of the landscapes that fiction, documentary, news, and traveling friends tell us is little by little in us a kind of interior country where we pick up images from outside to create an intimate geography. » Véronique Côté

There is a form of fog that has lodged behind my eyes and between my ears lately. If last year we had been asked to be patient at home for two weeks, obviously we wouldn't have believed that patience was going to turn into fear, boredom, disarray for the months to come. I felt like I was eating the same microwave reheated soup twice. How to deal with days that paint a picture that seems beige and bland?

If now I'm still alive and I still have all my head, it's because I returned to the sources by focusing on what was poetic between my four walls .

I'll be lying when I say that I got the idea on my own, but it's by revisiting the essay Habitable life (Documents, Atelier 10, 2014) by Véronique Côté that a second wind came to me. Côté explains that survival must go through poetry, that it serves to pause on everything in order to reconnect with oneself and stand in front of a mirror to find what she calls "the wild answers" to questions that do not. not like "How to live? "And" How to live together? ". I see it as a call to the lightness of everyday life, that if I took the trouble to bring poetry through “objects and places with initially narrow vocations” they infuse the real with their scintillating existence.

So when I write poetry , I'm not talking about those big gestures that make the earth stop turning, I'm talking about little things that make everyday life more beautiful and simpler: repot plants in a new land, travel with the 50 steps that separate me from my favorite convenience store where you win the lottery when there is red wine, even if it is cheap, be enchanted by the cacophonous voices of the Greek cafe under my balcony or take the longest road to get from point A to point B so that I can finish my podcast just as I get off the bus.

And if I fear a new confinement, I console myself and rejoice to know that poetry will be waiting for me as a buoy in the ocean.

Marianne Pépin

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