10/2020
Paris has always been the place in the world I keep coming back to, a place I longed for during my melancholic adolescence years and that I could finally savour for a prolonged time.
The main reason behind my stay was the self-education of my nose, to play with the language of aroma, still so unknown to me. Going deeper into it every day led me to a state of effervescent learning, of constant discovery, almost childish, rooted and visceral.
Beyond that, I encountered and reencountered fascinating people, each coincidentally converging to this same city recently. But the lonesomeness and the silence always were my constant companions during my long drifting walks.
The sculptures of Musée Rodin, the small Giacometti foundation, and the exhibitions at the Palais de Tokyo were real anchoring moments. Volumes connecting directly with my flesh.
Words written for distant bodies, sighs, and in the end,
lockdown.
