Don’t know if you are familiar with haiku, these short, three-line, poems of Japanese origin, made famous by zen monks… I remember not being overwhelmed when I first encountered them in the cult bookshop the Artforum in my then hometown Bratislava. I was 18 or so and I did not see the point of reading these short poems about “nothing”. And they did not rhyme, so what the heck. I was young, too restless… I could not imagine sitting down to read poems about frogs jumping into fish ponds. Well, at that age I did not see the point of many other things either… Fast forward 15 years or so, I’m living in Paris with my fiancee who is (among other things) a writer of haiku! In French. And, her being a member of the Francophone community of writers of haiku, here I am with her in a Parisian bistro at an event called “kukai”, which is a Japanese term for an atelier of haiku. Around the table 15 people of different age bringing their own haiku, talking about them, voting for them. Outside the windows the hustle and bustle of Paris, inside the people are talking about butterflies in cemeteries, drops of water, flowers in bloom… We leave relaxed, refreshed and already look forward to another kukai in a month’s time!