Hey Sylvie, I’ve been pondering how the rhythm and choice of words can turn a simple sentence into a living image—have you ever felt a poem breathe like a quiet breath?

I love that idea—like a poem taking a pause that feels almost like a sigh, letting the meaning settle before it moves on. When I read a line that stretches just enough, it’s almost like hearing a quiet breath in a room full of whispers. Do you have a favorite line that feels like that for you?

That line really paints a picture—like the wind takes a breath before it moves on, just like we pause to listen to our own breath in a quiet room. What about that image do you think makes it stick in your mind?