*** There was nothing left for us but to thank the stars for hearing the keys under these hands, under the hands without music, under the hands without any land…
Read More
*** Sometimes I go to Honfleur, I walk its coble stones and forest roads, there is a lot of French noise: wine clinking, chanson and laughter, and in front of…
Read More
*** The joy of that black night is still alive and pulsing in me. That joy is also to drive me on towards the white nights that I am dreaming…
Read More
*** I didn’t know wether to laugh or cry when I saw a pixel today, extracted carefully from Mona Lisa’s hands, to make them breathe, to make them stand straight…
Read More
For years she had swallowed it up in daily doses - the skin&bones models in little black dresses - she followed the rules, and even accepted to be a good…
Read More
*** My heart hammers so hard when I imagine you walking the streets we walked together, I still don't know how much the gift of freedom and trust can cost…
Read More
She is a catsuit, A catsuit that is thought to be Too vulgar, Too Extravagant, Too food For hungry eyes And mouths Of the judges, Of spectators in fedora hats…
Read More
*** Among these gentlewomen, addicted to late hours, grappa’s and poetry, sometimes neurotic, more often self-confident, wearing men's smoking’s or lovely Scottish kilts, enjoying the routine of being themselves in…
Read More
Clean lines, white walls, green tables for ping-pong, machine precision, love of less and faultless geometry - the interior recalls the Lenin’s Worker’s Club of Alexandr Rodchenko, designed a century…
Read More
*** I suddenly thought what I was there for was to see the best of all possible worlds - your hands, for not playing safe, for staying true to myself,…
Read More
