I am physically unable to leave my limit.

I summon forms of energy in a subversive and non-discriminatory way.

I can’t clearly define what I feel, where exactly I am and with what purpose, I am always acting like I would be in a past future.

I try to dispute the obviousness: a utopia put into practice always fails.

I am building objects that betray me. In the night you can’t see your hand.

I wear my body bound by necessity. I am trying to isolate the intermediate nature, walking with my almost chair lifted, fighting against the unstable point.

I identify the unstable point of my objects: I know that a sphere is the perfect shape, that it has an infinite number of unstable points.

I am calmly testing the rolling chaise-longue. Trying to recreate the initial state, the moment when the upside down head gives the solution for the clew head.

Clew head has to be remelted.