A Woman's Day

By Jesse CRAIGNOU

A Woman's Day is never done they say…

Especially women…

Women have that eerie ability of living many lives in one… which would akin them to cats… and accounts for yet another reason why I know them so well…

A collection of stories to pay tribute to their endeavours… their loves… their lives…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jesse CRAIGNOU
• Release date: Feb 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215970416

Jesse CRAIGNOU

Coming from a multinational multicultural family I learnt many languages and to deal with many cultures… This has shown me the importance of words and communication. Words are sweet water to my lips… For lack of a better word I’ll make up my own if I have to… if it serves the purpose of my writing… words are all yet sometimes words are not enough… From the minute I could write I wrote… on everything and anything I could find to write on… I wrote I wrote I wrote… and I haven’t stopped writing yet… My first memory of writing was at home writing my name on my little blackboard… My father came to correct it… and writing was on for me from that moment on… There was a time poetry belonged in popular culture before it was held hostage by the elite… In many respects and ways I have long felt I belong in those days… People quoted and cited lines from poems as people today sing along the streets… And words were their music… A couple of years ago one of my students presented a piece of his work about Louise BENNETT -the first Jamaican woman poet- and he got me thinking on how I wish I could go back to the dawn of writing… to be the first person ever to write the first book in his language… the first fiction… Or even… Bulgarian born Elias CANETTI who, from wanting so much to understand the private thoughts his parents shared in German, went on to become one of the greatest German writers of his time and beyond… because with writing comes history… and come stories… and communication… My main interests belong in life, people and nature. People usually don’t see the surrealistic aspects of their life… when I do… Most of my endeavours are about communication and my writings are very oral in fact… they are meant to be heard and said more than read… even if one should indeed enjoy reading them… whether books, texts, poems or songs would easily find their way to the radio or stage… and I have recorded a few that I offer for sale now…

Book preview

A Woman’s Day

A Woman’s Day is never done they say...

Especially women...

Women have that eerie ability of living many lives in one... which would akin them to cats... and accounts for yet another reason why I know them so well...

A collection of stories to pay tribute to their endeavours... their loves... their lives...

About my Writing

Coming from a multinational multicultural family I learnt many languages and to deal with many cultures...

This has shown me the importance of words and communication.

Words are sweet water to my lips...

For lack of a better word I’ll make up my own if I have to... if it serves the purpose of my writing... words are all yet sometimes words are not enough...

––––––––

From the minute I could write I wrote... on everything and anything I could find to write on... I wrote I wrote I wrote... and I haven’t stopped writing yet...

My first memory of writing was at home writing my name on my little blackboard... My father came to correct it... and writing was on for me from that moment on...

There was a time poetry belonged in popular culture before it was held hostage by the elite...

In many respects and ways I have long felt I belong in those days...

People quoted and cited lines from poems as people today sing along the streets...

And words were their music...

A couple of years ago one of my students presented a piece of his work about Louise BENNETT -the first Jamaican woman poet- and he got me thinking on how I wish I could go back to the dawn of writing... to be the first person ever to write the first book in his language... the first fiction...

Or even... Bulgarian born Elias CANETTI who, from wanting so much to understand the private thoughts his parents shared in German, went on to become one of the greatest German writers of his time and beyond...

––––––––

My main interests belong in life, people, communication and nature.

People usually don’t see the surrealistic aspects of their life... when I do...

Most of my endeavours are about communication and my writings are very oral in fact... they are meant to be heard and said more than read... even if one should indeed enjoy reading them... whether books, texts, poems or songs would easily find their way to the radio or stage... and I have recorded a few that I offer for sale now...

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I also write for business and communication as well as for children.

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Most of my books come in French and in English.

Read all about it !

War has brought Adam & Eve much more than death...

How Deep Can Adele go ?

The Beat Offender uttered stuttered to be heard

The world of The Gabbeh Weaver is a web beyond a mere mesh

How Impatient can a patient get ?

Is Anne-Marie two of a kind ?

How Jenny rose and petered out...

Leyla Saeydeh’s unexpected twist of fate

Lulu’s new life

Memory Practice in a museum of a kind

The Old Gypsy who didn’t tell her own fortune

How far can Opera go... and take you ?

Patricia’s Horses are out for another run

Chrissie’s Crab not about to come out of the deep again...

Who is really Kim’s Love and On... ?

Who is Patricia The Stripper really stripping for ?

About my Writing

Adam & Eve

Adele Deep

The Beat Offender

The Gabbeh Weaver

Impatient

Anne-Marie

Jenny

Leyla Saeydeh

Lulu

Memory Practice

The Old Gypsy

Opera

Patricia’s Horses

Chrissie’s Crab

Kim’s Love and On...

Patricia The Stripper

Thank You

Words

I Write

Audio Books

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Private Writer

Ghost-writing & Rewriting

Writing Workshops

PodCasts

Translating

Training & Coaching

Paris Guide

Social Networks

Adam & Eve

When love is all you’ve got left you have nothing to lose...

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In this pit of a camp that seemed to accommodate only the lowliest of mankind... in the lowlands of the marshlands of this god forsaken place far remote from earth and heaven that hell wouldn’t deny... who would expect to find love in such a place ?

The future looked bleak and didn’t even show the faintest outlook of a future... in this camp humanity only had a date with death at best... certainly not with life... and certainly even less with love... mankind at best here was inhuman... and even inhuman leaves something of human missing there in any case... those should-be humans would be humans if humans still ruled... but the world was only ruled by monsters which had nothing to do with mankind... a world where man was merely a beast of burden...

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On the victims’ side as much as on the hangmen’s side fate didn’t seem to have made the party of viable life... the difference was neither physical but aesthetical at best cosmetic...

Of course size mattered... of course there were uniforms... yet the remaining remainder of those men and women was merely uniform... and barely of human form... for what it was worth...

It was in the crowd of that desert that looked like the work of Giacometti... statues undressed by Egon Schiele that they met... they met... they melted into one... passionate fusion in the hotbed of hate... where slave driving mahouts had put them in dire consignment...

Labour was indeed laborious...industrious... painstaking... but at least there was food and one could help oneself... the jailers turned a blind eye pretending not to see... so long as the prisoners found the fuel they need to undertake their tasks... and if there was no pain no gain there was certainly pain there... more than whatever the gain was worth...

Their eyes met and locked in full daylight as those in total darkness... flashing like lightening... a flash of lightening that lasted forever for eternity... a true vision of paradise shining on the worst of worlds... a snapshot suspended hanging in limbo... like lost in the infinity of timeless time...

Amazed in this maze of a place... two who had lost everything had found each other... and for the short spell of a spellbinding moment had found one another again... love lock stock and barrel everything had been taken from them... when they had been taken... and now they were taken in by love... their crime had been no other than having been in the wrong place at the wrong time... time and tide had waxed and waned them and mowed them down... their time had come when the tide had come in...

No names... they exchanged no names so that nothing could start from there... and nothing would lead back to them... in this silent present the past might as well keep as silent as the future...

A name... your name is a story... a legacy alleging a story that is given to us... a legacy we