Manic Monday

mai 3

Temps de lecture : 2 min

6

25

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Today is Monday. A cold but beautiful winter day of 2025.

I received a parcel this morning —inside, the CDs of the album I’ve been working on for the past years. My fourth album. My own songs, now pressed, packaged, and real.

Today is a special day. So many feelings at once—joy, relief, pride, and a touch of sadness too. I can't help thinking of all the efforts to get here. The long writing hours, recording, scrapping, doing, re-doing. The creative joy and the doubtful moments. The days I wondered, who even cares about my music… and the days I convinced myself that my songs matter.

Today, I’m proud. Not really because the world is listening (yet), but because I didn’t give up. I followed through, and this album exists.

Today isn’t about numbers or recognition. It’s about the grit it takes to follow a dream over the years. It’s about honoring the creative process—the doubts, the failures, the hope. It’s about trusting the journey, even when the destination is unclear.

This new album—folk-rock, honest, raw, mine—is a piece of my story. And I’m incredibly proud of it. It takes time. It takes courage. There’s frustration and uncertainty. The cost is real, and the outcome never guaranteed. But the journey matters, to make sense of the world.

I was not alone in this journey. I am so deeply grateful to friends, family and fellow artists who supported me and contributed to this album. Those who are here, those who left but are in my heart. This album carries their fingerprints too.

And yes, I’m a little sad too. Something is ending. The making part, the safe part. Now comes the sharing—the vulnerable, unpredictable part. Will anyone listen? Will radio hosts, music writers, venues take a chance on me? Will I feel the joy of sharing?

The aftermath when a project is completed is natural. But I’m choosing to live this moment as a new beginning rather than an end. A door open to new challenges, new dreams, new songs.

To anyone walking a similar path...