Please tell me that it gets better, that the emptiness goes away.

On Thursday morning at 10 o’clock, Guillaume and Juliette finally found peace.

How would you define beauty?

The beauty of the sun had nothing on the sleeping baby cradled in my arms.

The constable handed her the lace headdress, seemingly the only possession he had bothered to save.

When the summer had come to end, the country was at war.

She whispered her last word like a wounded lamb who had been abandoned by the world.

They say your body feels everything on the day you are meant to die.

Suddenly, I felt like I could hardly breathe.

As far back as I can remember, my mother has always been a liar.