Black magic for white poetry of burning metal, and like a magnetic transgression, the man from Castille had enriched Parisian fashion with feminine sculptures in polyethylene and metal?
His sewing is chemical and fantastic, it was phenomenal, but also pheromonal at the sight of his dresses surges an ocean of oxytocin .
I remember; he was there kneeling in that human distress of the true creators, and you could feel the passionate fervor in his black eyes. He would pull his hands back behind his back to show that he was the slave and not the master of his sewing. He leaned his head against the bottom of the mannequin’s throat, and on his side he clipped a metal ring like a child adoring the Madonna as a devotee, receiving the host of notoriety.