Story telling

Tell me a story
That was never written
that has a cowboy traveling alone
And a horse who missed her friends.
A story with a farm and a dog
Smelling like peach flowers
And cut grass
Is my favourite.
Tel me a story you lived
And that I will tell my children
But will never write.

Communicating for you

Communication appears essential
When what you research daily
is uncommon
and has a shine for your eyes
No other people can see.
Selecting the words is the job
And depicting them in images
Hard.
You will fill the white pages
With memories and sensations
Others live on holidays
And you feel in the lab
When nobody is watching
And your results emerge.

Proceedings and pausing

You can pause for a day, a week,
And nobody sees your standing.
You alone Are creating.
Your mind, your imagination
Is processing yours next steps
And gluing together your achievements.
What comes next is in the picture
But still unfocused
until your superpowers
Are redefined.

Surprise protein

The time spent planning and polishing details
is nothing against the odds of scientific research.
The controllable is mysterious
and your plan is just a forecast
of your protein’s behavior.
Predicted and overanalysed
still surprises you in the lab
when the unexpected happens and adrenalin is needed
to find the solution
to a confusing situation.

Fog

White thick fog surrounds me
In my circular walk
looking for silence and solitude.
My batteries recharge
And the fog reminds me it’s the season of rest.
In the fog I hide my fears, my worries and my inadequacies
as no reason I have to keep them.

Dynamics

Still and on the limit,
As a drop of clear dense water
Hanging and considering
The way to fall
I observe the dynamics around me
and question myself with no shyness or reserve
Knowing that no answer is needed.

Ignite

Words in a stream
Full the room and the heart of the scientist
When the unknown is the destination
And our hands the means.
Curious like kittens
And smart like bees
Scientists get ignited
And the hunt starts.

BrushStrokes

Details are in the corners
And in the last strokes of the brush
To complete the aquarello
When nobody is watching.
Sitting at the desk
The many experiments transform
Fusing in a single story
Whose last slow details
Make me feel unique.

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