I'm not Kim Jong-un.
I am a synthesis of Charles de Gaulle and JFK - and other famous airports.

Anima sana in corpore sano, that's my credo. I can hit high-velocity backhands. As an accomplished musician, one part of my brain is occupied by harmony and melody (these are not two sexy blond twins - although they do appear, occasionally).

pursuing business opportunities with my head in the clouds.

spontaneous improvisation.

that I look like Cary Grant or Gregory Peck. There is supposedly also a certain resemblance with the painter Kokoschka.

French/American/Russian literature. Multilingual writers like Beckett, Nabokov, Kundera, or writers with a fantastic imagination like Italo Calvino or Julio Cortazar.

Almost all styles of music, with an affinity for classical. And the Thong Song, by the great composer Sisqo.

Movies: Kieslowski, Le Samourai by Melville, Sergio Leone Westerns.

Food? Since I'm Franco-American, I must balance the snob and the slob within. In NYC, I enjoy restaurants such as Balthazar or Cafe Boulud, but I also love a Gray's Papaya hotdog once in a while.

Late nights, mint milanos, hotel lounges, crisp-cornered books, music performance, a sense of the world-at-large.

Purfling, arching, chamfers, mitres, maple and spruce.

criss-crossing the court.

I will not eat a frittata, ciabatta, or anything ending in -atta. Out of principle.

you're an alluring woman, and the kind of person who can keep a secret.