Images, words and shared emotions

Rose Lorang’s world

Aspiring author and illustrator

Through my drawings and words, I explore the beauty hidden in pain, vulnerability as an act of courage, and gentleness as strength. Here you’ll find fragments of humanity: to read, to see, to feel.

My illustrations

My illustrations

Here you’ll find a selection of my drawings, from the ones I’ve made on the spur of the moment, to the ones that are part of a project, to the ones I’ve applied myself to.

The love hug

This drawing has a special story. To me, it depicted a young mother with her baby. She was offering him one of those intense hugs of love that nourish the heart and soul, soothe the body and convey, without the slightest doubt, that precious message: “I love you and you are precious.”

And then, one day, I shyly showed this drawing around me. To my great surprise, people didn’t see a mother, but a young girl, almost a teenager. Was it her baby? Intrigued by such a different perception, I looked at my drawing with fresh eyes. Once again, I was surprised to discover that there was another story behind it, one that seemed to have escaped me. This drawing reflected a part of my life: my story as an older sister with my younger brother. We’re fourteen years apart, and during his childhood, he often seemed more than just a sister to me.

I love those moments when my creations take on a life of their own, when they surprise me and help me discover aspects of myself that I wasn’t fully aware of.

Helping to mourn

This drawing was requested by a 9-year-old boy I know well. His kitty had just died, and his heart was heavy. Every night, she used to come and sleep with him, warming not only his body, but also his heart. She was there, in those delicate moments of transition and letting go between day and night, often difficult moments for children.

This kitty played an essential role for him. She helped him to make the transition smoothly, to feel surrounded and soothed. To accompany him in his grief and offer him a little comfort, I decided to represent her in the form of a guardian angel, with gentle wings and a luminous halo. This way, he could keep in mind that she might still be there, somewhere, watching over him.

Today, this drawing hangs in his room, just above his bed. As long as he’s young enough to find meaning and importance in it, it will remain there, as a reminder of love and protection. And later, when he grows up, it will become a simple memory, but a precious one, full of tenderness and sweetness.

The cat and the boy

A cocooning winter image

The story behind this drawing is special: those who know me will recognize my son. At the time I made this drawing, we didn’t have a cat. However, a few months later, chance (or perhaps fate?) led us to rescue a little grey cat. She was in very bad shape and desperately needed help.

Today, this little cat is an integral part of our family. She has become a gentle, affectionate companion, incredibly attached to us, as if she was always destined to cross our path.

Sometimes, the line between creativity and premonition is so fine that it seems to disappear. This drawing, imagined without a cat, now finds a special resonance in our reality.

The blog .

The blog

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M short stories

Short stories.

Thou shalt remain human…

Thou shalt remain human…

— Biotope-One to Man-One, do you copy? — Alright, Jeff, no need for the codes. It’s not like we’re swarming with people on this godforsaken planet! — Okay, don’t get mad! So, what’s it looking like? — Give me five minutes, I’ll take a look. I move closer to the...

A consuming passion.

A consuming passion.

The attraction was immediate. Right away I knew I'd love you for the rest of my life. We met for the first time when I was a child. It was a birthday party with pancakes, whipped cream and lots of guests too. That day, I didn't get to enjoy you very much. I wasn't...

State of Alabama v. Miss Jones.

State of Alabama v. Miss Jones.

The poor woman seems distraught. She steps just over the threshold of my office, accompanied by my secretary. Around fifty years old, she is African-American. Well-dressed. It’s clear she’s put on her best for this appointment. I stand up and extend my hand...

A seed of self-confidence. 

A seed of self-confidence. 

Please, don’t let him sit next to me! I don’t want him sitting next to me! My brain screams danger—he’s strange. If he sits next to me, I won’t be able to go to the bathroom for the entire trip. I’d never dare ask him to let me pass. Every time I get on the train and...

The last mission.

The last mission.

Jérémy slammed the car door shut. Once again, he’d had an argument with his mother. Throwing his backpack over his shoulders, he stormed toward the entrance of the high school. Lately, everything had been going wrong; he felt terrible. And it was starting again. He...

The moment before.

The moment before.

It’s the final match. The official scouts are in the stands. The tension in the crowd is palpable. The speakers blare a distorted version of AC/DC’s "Highway to Hell." Three goals to three. I glance up briefly at the scoreboard: 45 seconds in bright red letters. We’re...

Who am I  ?

Who am I ?

Dreamy, sensitive and introverted, I have a crazy project to create a world of words and images that correspond to who I am inside.

In my other job (the one that pays the bills :)), I’m forced, somewhat in spite of myself, to come out of my shell, out of my comfort zone, to be public and pragmatic. There’s no room in this other life for mental wandering, the magic of stories, the beauty of inner landscapes, so I’ve decided to create a specific place in my life for my other self, that of artist, creator.

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