Lately, spring fairies started dancing through the lovely trees, enchanting our eyes with marvelous colorful nice scented flowers. Through the parks, birds already cast their magical songs, announcing the re-awakening of Mother Nature. Pleasing greens meet our blurry vision as we leap through time, unaware of our actions, following the same tiring routine.
We are invited to daydream and we follow suit.
Away from technology and addicting homework, I began my journey through the park, alone, accompanied by the lovely trill of the birds. A few pigeons guided my way around, as if pretending to be my royal scouts, or rather chevaliers.
It was all magical. But as all magnificent things, my morning escapade had to reach an end too.
Homework was awaiting.
I walked back home thinking of my pen-name, and of how much I love it. Hirondelle. A name surrounded by elegance and delicacy.
A few years back, when I was reading Watashini XX Shinasai, I came across something called cell phone novels, which, why not admit, picked my interest right away, and even though I kept postponing looking them up, it still pulled me in. The more I read the manga, and implicitly, the cell phone novel inside, the more curious I became about this particular genre. And so, one day, I looked it up.
I do not particularly remember what the results returned by Google were, but certainly one of them was what was later to become my home and most beloved writing sites of all. Textnovel.
Everyday, I would come and visit the site again, and again, and again. Everyday, a stray thought would sneak inside of my mind and ask for justice. I need to write a cell phone novel! But I needed a name, a new one, for mine, I did not want it revealed.
I searched for one, day after day, after day, after day, until one night, when it suddenly occurred to me. I remembered the wonderful tale of princess Swallow and her marvelous destiny and I then knew what path to take.
I can still remember how that particular night, sleep refused to crawl in and carry me on the magical lands of the dreamworld. Silence reigned over everything and all, but my head was loud with ideas. Ideas of stories, ideas of names.
My first thought was to use the Romanian Rândunica, which is actually the translation of swallow, but I quickly dismissed the choice, and moved on, towards another. French came to my mind, and so, with an obsessively repeating Hirondelle in my head, I fell asleep. The next day, I greeted my mother with a wide smile on my face, and a kiss.
Under the blue, bright sky, I declare: my name shall now be—Hirondelle!