Alain SUPPINI

Joined January 2025

319 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 (319)

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Harvesting What Lingers
Step softly. The past is not stone — it is glass covered in dust, a fruit left too long in the sun, sweet, fragile, ready to collapse at the touch.
By Alain SUPPINI4 months ago in Poets
Midnight at the Edge of August
The air still smells like heat and grass, but something quiet has already shifted. A coolness hides beneath the skin of the night,
By Alain SUPPINI4 months ago in Poets
Donald Trump, Self-Proclaimed Peacemaker
Donald Trump has never been shy about declaring himself the greatest at something. His latest — and perhaps most audacious — claim is that he deserves the Prix Nobel de la paix. For years, Trump has repeated that his diplomatic maneuvers, particularly in the Middle East and on the Korean Peninsula, should earn him a place among the pantheon of peacemakers.
By Alain SUPPINI4 months ago in The Swamp
The Year That Never Grew Old
There was a year that never grew old. The trees stayed young, their leaves refusing to fall or bloom — caught between a beginning and an ending
By Alain SUPPINI4 months ago in Poets
When the Clock Forgot Its Hands
The clock forgot its hands the day the world grew quiet. No tick. No pull. Only the soft inhale of stillness. The air hung like glass — thin, breakable, perfect.
By Alain SUPPINI4 months ago in Poets
Lost Seasons
January The frost still remembers the warmth it devoured. Your breath lingers on the windowpane — a ghost that refuses to thaw.
By Alain SUPPINI5 months ago in Poets
What My Silence Wanted to Say
Silence speaks in the pauses I never meant to leave. It hides beneath my tongue, pressing against my teeth like a word afraid of light.
By Alain SUPPINI5 months ago in Poets
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 SUPPINI5 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 SUPPINI5 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 SUPPINI5 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 SUPPINI5 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 SUPPINI5 months ago in Poets

Alain SUPPINI

Bio

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

Stories (319)

Filter by community

Harvesting What Lingers

Midnight at the Edge of August

Donald Trump, Self-Proclaimed Peacemaker

The Year That Never Grew Old

When the Clock Forgot Its Hands

Lost Seasons

What My Silence Wanted to Say

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

Achievements (3)