In the Middle of the Fire: The Hidden Page of My Carnet 03

Mad Lips 21
6 days ago
4 min read

I’m a digital artist. I’m building worlds, designing visuals, and writing a sci-fi comic. But when I saw the call for Carnet 03—a city-wide contest inviting Montrealers to fill a blank notebook with poetry, stories, art, or raw emotion—I felt something tug at me.

Not just as an artist. As a writer. As a girl who once scribbled poems in the margins of her notebooks and never dared show them.

A Chance to Be Seen—Not Just as an Artist, but as a Writer

I’ve kept my writing close to the chest for years. It felt too personal. Too delicate. But this carnet felt like a safe space—an honour, even—to finally say something. To write not for perfection, but for truth. I wanted to be part of something local. Something that connects. I knew I’d pour all of myself into these pages so that I could be proud, no matter the outcome.

When I first received the blank notebook, I was trembling. Excited. Intimidated. I didn’t know what to put down, but I knew it had to be emotional. Personal. Something that might reach the heart of a fellow Quebecer, silently, honestly.

The Page That Waited in the Middle

Some things don’t belong at the beginning. Or the end. They live in the middle—where the heartbeat is.

That’s where this page lives. A hidden page. One I created with all the emotions I had in me. Because when love is real, it’s not easy to express. But I knew I had to let it out. Better to let the universe carry it than to keep it buried in my chest.

In the middle of the carnet, I glued a tiny handmade book. And inside that book, his name.

At first, it felt like a beautiful love offering. Then I thought: maybe it’s childish. Now, if I’m being honest, I feel a bit silly. But maybe that’s exactly what makes it human. I think people will recognize a piece of their younger selves in it—the part that once wrote a name down just to make the feeling real. And that’s okay. That’s healing.

A Secret in Flames

The tiny book means more than just a name. It represents me. I don’t open easily. I tend to keep my deepest feelings hidden, sealed tight. Creating this page was a mirror. It showed me the child in me who always doubted her talent.

That little girl’s first-ever poem? It was about fire. That’s why I chose fire as the theme—for this page, and for the whole carnet. I used reds, blacks, and golds. I chose textures that crackled like flame. I wanted to evoke warmth, danger, and transformation.

Because that’s what love feels like.

A Passion Left Unspoken

I wrote two of the four poems in this carnet while thinking of him:

Il m’aime, il ne m’aime pas and Via Notre-Dame in Extasiâ.

Both are about passionate love—and the ache of not knowing how the other person sees you. That in-between place of desire and doubt. Of wanting someone deeply but not being able to say it aloud.

This person I wrote for is someone I admire deeply. Someone full of life. Including them in the carnet—even silently—was essential. Because how could I speak of fire, and not speak of passion?

Montreal Is in the Ink

Rue Notre-Dame appears in one of the poems for a reason. It’s a street full of stories, old and new. I like to imagine it has held moments of love—beautiful, complicated, unforgettable. That made it the perfect setting.

When I create, I let emotion guide me. I follow my instincts. I rarely regret the direction they lead me in. For me, place and feeling are always intertwined.

And fire? Fire is everything. It’s passion, transformation, truth. I try to light everything I touch with that same symbolic fire, to make sure it moves people—emotionally, viscerally.

A Page That Speaks Without Words

This wasn’t just a page about love. It was about healing. Memory. Desire. Letting that love live somewhere outside of me. Giving it a home.

When I create, I listen for the dialogue that emerges in the process. Sometimes, I’m just listening to my own truth, echoing back.

What I discovered? My wild ideas usually have only one limit: budget. And I’m okay with that. The fire’s still there.

What I Hope You’ll Feel

This page sits at the heart of my carnet for a reason. Love can burn as fiercely as fire. That’s what I wanted to capture.

I just hope people don’t ask me too many questions when they see it. I’m still a little shy when it comes to showing my feelings in public. But maybe that’s the beauty of it. That little girl in me, the one who wrote her first poem and didn’t think anyone would care—she’s speaking now. And I think she deserves to be heard.