Incipit

That year in France, the almond-trees were already in full bloom in February, then I woke up from the dream. In Kyoto, the snow gusts have lasted until mid-march.”

That’s how the incipit of my book would have sounded like if only I had written it. If I had not conquered that shame of mine of being born, of naming myself, of hoping, if I had not, since the world came into Being, got rid of that feeling of impurity and of being wounded which has transfigured my life into a poetic appeal that keeps me on the verge of language, on the edge of daring to write something other than prose, until that year when failure left me bloodless for a whole winter next to the stove, with the knowledge that there was now nothing more to expect”

“That year in France, the almond-trees were already in full bloom in February. In Kyoto, the snow squalls have lasted until mid-march. I woke up from the dream. I accepted to love, and knew that the spring lasts forever.

Back cover

A French novelist makes up her mind to head to Japan, seeking an unknown poet she thought she had dreamt, namely Yazuki. She travels across a snowy country, made of silence and words. She goes through changes. Invents. Then she meets her persona and another possible life. Can powerful imagination create events? Not without sensuality, jesting and balminess, Laurence Nobécourt is offering us a literary and spiritual manifesto.