“Close your eyes and give me your hand”

I am in the dark. I can’t see anything. I am not afraid. A recovered serenity and my friend’s voice like a guide. His hand like a gift. A secret that only he knows. I am ready to find it out.

Starting point of a sensorial journey. A world still unknown that will unveil its mysteries. What’s invisible to the eyes makes me curious. Taking air. I can feel the beams of the sun and the caresses of the wind wandering through the room. They warm up my face. I am here.

A scent. A deep breath. Ephemeral but powerful. An introspection in the darkness of memory. Coffee. It’s getting closer to my lips. The taste like unique witness. I remember.

1980, in the mountains of my childhood. The rich and refined aroma of an unforgettable taste. I step forward. I move slowly not to miss the taste of this dream. I feel my friend’s breath.

His voice resonates inside me: “Listen”.

A few notes of piano. An electric guitar and the sharp and exciting sound of a synthesizer.

I remember. Carnegie Hall. New-York, Winter 1989. A shooting star hurtling the sound of an alternative music. The Chameleon. The Thin White Duke. Ziggie Stardust… David Bowie. A Rock legend.

“Another slight step on the right” whispers not to interfere with my initiation path. My hand touches lightly a silk. Where am I? Doesn’t matter. A softness that unveils a parade of sensations. I stroke the velvet of a dreamed body. Something shines in silence. I remember. The inexplicable magic of a one-of-a-kind skin. A timeless skin.

My mother. The perfume, the delicacy, the comfort of eternity. The freedom of intimacy.

I go forward. I touch and retouch. I know these aesthetic lines running through my fingers will end up. The dream goes on.

I turn around. His hand is warm. I feel again his excitement. His impatience for a dreaming immersion.

I remember. A poet, a Lebanese full of youth. Khalil Gibran and his timelessness: “And knows that yesterday is but today’s memory and tomorrow is today’s dream”.

A smile lights up Gio’s face. I cannot see it. And I remember “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential it’s invisible to the eye”. I feel like a Little Prince that tames the world. No, that interprets it. A world that will become ours. A home that hides treasures. I am close to him. I go with him because a friend is the answer to our needs.

I turn and hold his hand again. He stands on my left now.

My hand continues its discovery. A chair. I feel it, I touch it, I breathe it. My senses are awake. An awakening of consciousness.

I remember. My father’s Atelier. He, passionate of essences. His hands laid on the wood.

Shapes objects. Pure and divine essences. The olfactory memory. A little shudder. The ability to create, to interpret desires. Emotions of our soul that cross over borders.

The murmur of Gio gets closer: ”I live the world’s spaces, its scents, its colors. I listen. I understand and I tell the magic of a moment.” I keep these words in mind. The magic of a moment.

Putting a part of oneself through each project undertaken. An introspection in his world. The right to know it, more and more.

“My dream in the drawer. Now you can open it”.

I dream of stars flying to reach the sky. An achievable dream. His dream. Mine. Our desire.

We are together and I understand. I can now open my eyes.

I take his hand and I hold it against my chest. I can see his sweet laughter and the beauty of the space where I stand.

An atmosphere. Emotions under the sign of an unconventional elegance. A permanent mark of an aesthetic and stylistic experience going along our journey. I am close to you in this inspirational path. This will be the destiny of our next first rendez-vous.

This is the story we want to tell you. The story of an encounter that led on this route to A World Apart.