Those Life Has Brought Into My Path: Pauline Lizzie André / Student

This post is part of a blog series that continues to unfold the story behind the creation of the book Dreamers and Seekers. In this series, I introduce the people life has brought into my path those whose stories, ways of thinking, or quiet presence have shaped my journey and, ultimately, the book itself.

Each piece is a reflective imprint of an interview. Not a word-for-word retelling, but a personal distillation of the values, experiences, and inner realizations that emerged from each story. Together, these writings reveal something essential: that dreams are rarely born in isolation, and that seeking one’s path is often a shared, communal experience.

The book has not yet been published in English, but it is on its way.

“I have a dream. I want to be a writer.” Liz

Lizzie’s story is a pure reflection of childlike honesty and courage. For her, writing is joy, play, and self-expression all at once. She doesn’t think in strategies, but in stories, images, and feelings. Her answers radiate a natural belief that following one’s dreams is self-evident — something you don’t need to prove, only trust and begin.

Lizzie’s presence in this book is a reminder that the desire to create often emerges at a very young age, and how essential it is to give it space to grow.

“Believe in yourself, because if you don’t, you will never know how good you are.” Liz

How did I meet her? Why Liz?

Lizzie, Stephanie’s daughter, became part of this book in a completely unexpected yet beautiful moment. We were talking with her mother about the interview and how this project would come to life when Liz suddenly interrupted us, with childlike excitement and sparkling eyes, to say that she had dreams too. When she said she wanted to be a writer, that moment touched me so deeply that I immediately asked whether she would like to be part of the book and share that dream. Shyly, yet with quiet determination, she said yes.

Liz answered the questions entirely on her own. In English, her second language, without discussing her answers with her mother beforehand. She withdrew into her little room, and the lines you can read in the book are her honest, childlike thoughts. It was a conscious decision not to shape, edit, or “adultify” her words, because their strength lies precisely in this purity.

Liz’s story is especially moving to me because I often imagine the moment when, perhaps ten or twenty years from now, she will hold this book in her own hands. It may remind her of her childhood dreams during a difficult time. Or perhaps she will already be a successful writer, leafing through it and looking back with pride.

The entire process—how a quiet inner impulse, a desire, an idea eventually became a book—was a magical journey for me. Many parts brought tears to my eyes during editing, but the story of this wonderful little girl touched me in a particularly deep and different way.

Not only because she spoke so openly and bravely, but because she showed how dreams sometimes arrive very softly, in a single childlike sentence, and yet are profoundly real.

Lizzie’s presence in this book is a reminder that the seeds of creativity are often planted very early in life. And that it makes an enormous difference when someone gives them space in time—and walks alongside them with support.

Liz's recommendations and sources of inspiration

(Source: Dreamers & Seekers)

Writing as play and joy

Stories born from imagination

The world and characters of Harry Potter

Reading as a source of inspiration

Dance as a source of happiness

Family support, especially her mother’s presence

Belief in herself, even when others doubt

And as we wrap up this post, I’d like to mention Juliette, Liz’s older sister, who is also a wonderfully creative dreamer. She writes truly remarkable poetry, and I’d love to share one of her pieces with you. Let’s just say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

The poem below doesn’t tell you who you are, it shows you how you became who you are. I find this piece incredibly moving, made even more extraordinary by the fact that it was written by a 14-year-old.

Poem by Juliette Pauline

2:14

I was born with England in my mouth,

tea-steeped vowels,

rain-soft consonants,

apologies that fall out

before I even decide

to mean them.

But I live in France.

I live where my name

sounds different

when teachers say it out loud.

Where my tongue trips

over rs

and people smile patiently,

like I’m always halfway

through becoming

someone else.

In England,

I’m the girl

with a suitcase heart,

always “just visiting,

”always asked,

“So when are you coming back

for good?”

In France,

I’m the English girl.

The accent walks into the room

before I do.

People hear my voice

and suddenly

I represent

an entire island.

I measure my life

in borders.

Not lines on maps—

but the way my posture changes

depending on which language

I’m thinking in.

In English,

I’m softer.

I hedge my feelings.

I say sorry

when someone bumps into me.

In French,

I’m braver.

My sentences stand straighter.

I learn that confidence

can be grammatical.

I miss England

in quiet, sneaky ways.

The smell of wet pavement.

Grey skies

that match my moods

instead of arguing with them.

But France teaches me

how to live out loud.

How to take up space

in cafés.

How to argue

like it’s an art form.

How to belong

without asking permission.

Some days

I feel split

down the middle,

like my heart

has dual citizenship

and my soul

is stuck in customs.

Other days,

I realise

I’m not half

of anything.

I’m double.

Double language.

Double rhythm.

Double home.

I am the girl

who thinks in English

and dreams in French.

Who stands

with one foot

on each shore

and refuses

to fall into the water.

I am not lost.

I am layered.

And one day,

when I speak,

you won’t ask

me where I’m from—

you’ll hear

that I am

from everywhere

I’ve learned

how to become myself.

Juliette Pauline