Alain SUPPINI

Joined January 2025

312 stories

Bio

I’m Alain — a French critical care anesthesiologist who writes to keep memory alive. Between past and present, medicine and words, I search for what endures.

Achievements (3)

Stories (312)

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Elegy for the Person I Almost Became
I light a candle for the life that never wore my name. Not the loud one I chased and lost — the quiet one, the one that waited at the edge of every choice I didn’t make.
By Alain SUPPINI3 months ago in Poets
The Rooms I Never Lived In
There are rooms I never lived in, but I can still describe their light. One had windows that opened onto a garden I never planted —
By Alain SUPPINI3 months ago in Poets
Instructions for Carrying an Invisible Grief
Do not name it too soon. Grief, when invisible, lives on silence — it shrinks beneath language, hides in the hollow of your ribs.
By Alain SUPPINI3 months ago in Poets
Cartography of Forgotten Names
There are people whose names I no longer know, yet they move inside me like weather — a certain light on water, a scent that arrives before recognition.
By Alain SUPPINI3 months ago in Poets
Where Silence Lives
There are silences heavier than screams, and others lighter — gold dust drifting through the light of a morning we never lived.
By Alain SUPPINI3 months ago in Poets
The Books I Never Wrote
In the library of books never written, the shelves bend beneath the weight of stories that never found a voice. Each spine bears a title I recognize like a scar within me.
By Alain SUPPINI3 months ago in Poets
Letters to My Other Self
Dear you, the one who turned left when I turned right — I imagine your hands carrying a different weight, your nights unfolding in rooms I never entered.
By Alain SUPPINI3 months ago in Poets
The Thread of Night
First, find the place where the fracture runs. Shadows split where the heart falls silent. Look for the invisible seams on the ground,
By Alain SUPPINI3 months ago in Poets
The Calendar That Lives Inside Me
There are springs that bloom only in my mind, fields of brightness I never walked through, the scent of lilacs that never were real
By Alain SUPPINI3 months ago in Poets
The Museum of Missed Heartbeats
Welcome. You enter through a narrow vestibule where silence is the ticket. No words exchanged, only the soft thud of your own pulse
By Alain SUPPINI3 months ago in Poets
When Fire Forgets Itself
It does not end with thunder. No grand collapse of sparks, no storm of fire scattering into night. The end comes softly,
By Alain SUPPINI3 months ago in Poets
The Candle, the Soup, the Walk
Winter does not arrive with a calendar date. It enters slowly, like a shadow lengthening across the room. First, the evenings slip away earlier than I notice. Then the sound of the world changes: footsteps on the pavement sharpen, voices outside seem to fall back into echoes. And then there is the stillness — an almost imperceptible pause that settles over the air. That is when I know it has come. Winter begins not in snow or frost, but in the silence that draws me inward.
By Alain SUPPINI4 months ago in Humans

Alain SUPPINI

Bio

Achievements .css-1svwz57-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(3)

Stories (312)

Filter by community

Elegy for the Person I Almost Became

The Rooms I Never Lived In

Instructions for Carrying an Invisible Grief

Cartography of Forgotten Names

Where Silence Lives

The Books I Never Wrote

Letters to My Other Self

The Thread of Night

The Calendar That Lives Inside Me

The Museum of Missed Heartbeats

When Fire Forgets Itself

The Candle, the Soup, the Walk

Achievements (3)