crowds of people around me or their approval. What I need is simply to present the work I have done. My book will soon be sent out. Let this be the starting point. First, I will submit my paper, then I will begin a systematic process: organizing, reviewing the literature, gathering cases, and writing in a more essay-like form. Trauma and creation Trauma, art, and beauty Ghassan Assaf, ALDeP -Association Libanaise Pour le Développement de la Psychanalyse Her attention was drawn to a piece of paper on the desk. Her father has died two years ago and she is still finding it very complicated to put an order to her grief process. She loved him so much, and he loved her back even more. Yet, there is one issue, one big issue, The issue. It’s not about the love he had for her, but for some others…the boys, young boys, and hopefully not very little boys, she always says to herself. Since he died, she chose her memory to be selective, and her grief too. She chose what to look at, what to keep and what to tell her mother to throw away without inviting her to look at it. And now this piece of paper comes to her. It’s laying there on his old desk waiting for her. What to do? Throw it without reading it? Read it and find out what’s in it? Ask someone to read it and then decide to throw it or to read it to her? And if the friend threw it without sharing its content, will she resist not wanting to know what her father wrote and to whom? She stands there, not able to turn her back and leave the room. She goes to the window, opens it, and the other one too. She now leaves the rooms, locks the door and goes down to her mother. She hands the keys to her and tells her not to close the two windows and not to open the room. When the mother asked for the reason, she answered: I want him to fly. Gloriana Bartoli, American Psychoanalytic Association (APsA) Member and Director of Training of the New Zealand Institute of Psychoanalytic Psychotherapy (NZIPP) Her attention was drawn to a piece of paper on the table she left the night before, unfinished. Her mother suggested she wrote the family story. That was years ago. She never did, till yesterday. The memory of a dream suddenly came back: an empty room, a door half-open, and a huge wave coming through with the tide. It used to wake her up in terror, as only nightmares can do. This gigantic wave overpowering her.
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