Differently STM (Seen - Thought - Made)

What truly makes us happy? Is there a universal definition of happiness, or is it something deeply personal, shaped by our unique journeys? Some people, knowing parts of my family story, might look at my life and assume it’s a tragedy—full of pain, struggle, and loss. They might label me as unhappy or broken. But is that really the truth? I see it differently. I consider myself lucky in many meaningful ways—and unlucky only in a few. Yes, my marriage ended in a difficult, painful way. It brought with it chaos, heartache, and challenges I never imagined I’d face. But even so, I look at it as one of the greatest lessons of my life. A transformative experience that forced me to grow, to open my eyes, and to evolve. I’m not ashamed to say: it happened for a reason. Perhaps it saved me from something even worse—something that could have stemmed from my naive attachments and my tendency to trust too easily. That chapter of my life, though painful, helped me mature quickly. It taught me...

  A Mother’s Fight Across European Courts As I sit in silence, trying to make sense of the chain of events that has shaped my life and my children’s future, I find myself asking: How can this still happen today—in Europe, among French-speaking neighbor countries—where we can send robots to Mars and access information to it, but justice cannot find its way through interconnected court systems? I am not writing this to place blame on fate. I am trying to understand. To learn. To prevent such tragedies from repeating—whether in my own life or in the lives of my children. How is it possible that one man, through a consistent pattern of manipulation, control, and abuse, can inflict harm across multiple families, and yet the justice system remains fragmented, blindfolded, and sometimes complicit? Civil courts lack access to criminal records; child protection agencies remain unaware of key decisions. The left eye doesn’t know what the right one is seing. Sometimes it feels like m...

  The kids are on holiday, and for the first time in a long while, I find myself completely alone in Lausanne. I had a clear vision for this time: I would focus on my professional goals, finally get the flat in order, and take control of the space and time I never usually have. It was supposed to be productive, transformative even. But that vision never materialised. The first weekend, I barely left the bed. I slept. Deeply. Desperately. I told myself I just needed a bit of rest, and I’d begin everything next weekend. But the next weekend came—and nothing changed. No progress. No productivity. The flat remained untouched. My personal goals remained ideas floating somewhere far away. And yet, strangely, the only place where I did feel fully alive was at work. In my professional space, I’ve been thriving. Energetic, enthusiastic, fully present. I’ve poured myself into it with intensity and passion, and in return, I’ve felt accomplished. Fulfilled, even. That contradiction haunt...

Ékphrasis personnelle Alice Bailly (Genève, 1872 - Lausanne, 1938) Le concert dans le jardin (Concert in a Garden), 1920 Oil on canvas , 94.5 x 99.5 cm   Acquisition, 2017 Inv. 2017-030 © Musée cantonal des Beaux-Arts de Lausanne   Moi, enfant. Moi, étudiante. Moi, déjà maman. Je regarde par la fenêtre, le cœur impatient, dans l’attente de ma grand-mère. Elle incarne tout ce que je respecte chez l’être humain. Tout ce que j’admire chez une femme. Et tout ce que je rêve de devenir. Je me souviens de notre quotidien, quand nous vivions ensemble,  et même après mon départ. Je la revois, assise, un fuseau dans la main,  filant la laine avec patience,  teignant les fils de mille couleurs,  puis créant des vêtements magnifiques et toujours à la mode — pour moi, pour les autres. Filer, c’était pour elle bien plus qu’un art : c’était une manière de tisser des liens. Avec ses gestes, elle transformait la matière brute en beauté,  et tissait les rel...