I love brains in formol and sculpted bones. I studied surgery theory by curiosity and almoravid story because I've been told it was fun and mysterious. If you tell me about your passion, there is some great chances that I'll be soon passionate about that too. (The trouble with having an open mind, of course, is that people will insist on coming along and trying to put things in it.)
My place is full of engraved papers from abolitionist caricaturist, revolutions teller, Piranesi studies. Large size paintings with some naked peoples being intimate, old books, XVIIIe compass, various sized sundials, mathematical incorrect beautiful formules, broken table clocks, automats, euclidian models, black lingerie, ink, computers, Leonard da vinci sketches, chimerical skeletons, numbered lithography, maps of invented cities, hand tools for wood working, thousand of pencils, burning candles, silver rings, vanités, B&W pictures, ongoing mechanical experiences, frames, steam machines, letters, pipes, torture engines, tinder pistols, netsuke and other japanese/indian relics, astronomical lenses, telescopes, microscopes, gems stones, witches eyes, exotic calculation rules, costumes, hats, knives, skulls, sculptures, dead flowers, leather belts and pirate boats.
No glory with my intellectual paradox: even if I check-mated some fide mæstro, and I intended to prove the Yang-Mills theory, I still have a hard time understanding the tax-system and the global administration process of any country I've been living in.
Some people say that I must be a horrible person but this is not true. I have the heart of a maiden fair -lying in a jar on my desk-.
Also, you may regret that I don't show more of myself on this absence of description. I'll give you a thing:
There are two ways to reach me: by way of kisses or by way of the imagination. But there is a hierarchy: the kisses alone don't work.