Anne Laure Mais Moreau

The smell of freshly brewed espresso on the side walks, steaming baguettes from the bakery and the seemingly effortless ease of the Parisian lifestyle captivates us all. Surrounded by history, art, culture, great food and wine you cannot help but want to soak in every aspect of the Parisian way of life.

The fashion in France has always been an art form within itself. An art that I could never partake in but could admire from afar. I could not look more English with my pink, pale and freckly complexion and petite curvy frame.

Since my last trip to Paris…


Close-up of Ugolin’s chest. The light from the fire flickers across his bare skin, shirt open. He presses Manon’s ribbon firmly across his nipple. With a large needle, he penetrates his skin, sewing the ribbon onto his flesh. Thick red blood trickles down from his wound. The camera tilts upwards to reveal a silent scream of pain on Ugolin’s face. His love, his obsession of Manon has brought him to this. The glowing light and shadows, the fire, the neutral tones make the scene warm. Coupling that with this act make it somehow disturbingly beautiful.

Manon Des Sources

Manon des…


Photo: Mario Calvo, Unsplash

To ask who my favourite director is, or rather to name a significant director would seem to be a challenge at this time. I am not even sure that I could say I like all the films of a specific director even. Initially my thoughts went straight to Jean-Pierre Jeunet, director of Amélie, a film I named my eldest child after. So much of this film is a joy for me to watch on many levels; the mise-en-scéne, the vivid colors, the cinematography, the story of a lonely and quirky woman finding love and the interesting characters she interacts with…


Photo Cred: Chistian Newman, Unsplash

There is no rhyme or reason when it comes to assault and to living in a domestic abuse relationship. People always ask you why you stayed so long but the mind is a strange and complicated thing.

Growing up, getting touched without permission came as frequently as the rain. Boys would ping our bra’s the moment we wore them and flick elastic bands at our nipples the second our breasts grew. It was painful, it was embarrassing and we were taught to believe it was a compliment. It never felt particularly complimentary as you sat in class trying to learn…


Credit: Aimee Vogelsang on Unsplash

Sprawled out on the sofa there didn’t seem much point in going back to bed, attempting to close my eyes and drift off to sleep. Sleep had become a distant memory, a thing that evaded me constantly. Anxiety, fear and panic would set in as my mind ached, throbbed and the room spun. Somewhere between 4am and 6am my body would finally find rest, just in time to be woken up by the children.

It was a painful slog, dragging myself to get up and going. I just had to get through the first part of the day; make breakfast…

Kat Hill

Award winning Screenwriter and Filmmaker from England www.katonfilm.com instagram.com/katonfilm

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