We are emotion hunters, Art lovers.
We draw poems by the ink of our painting, we are their dry ryhmes.
We tell unstitched stories as our collections go, whose protagonists are the fruit of eponymous tributes.
We are the links of a chain of audacious minds which surpasses, transcends, bends us.
We plant seeds of doubt, who wears who ?
We are emotion lovers, Art hunters.
We hunt the extraordinary down, our lures are the hands of our caftspeople and the paintbrushes of our Artists.
We are in a quest of exceptionnal, and suddenly it's not love but the beautiful as if it poured down over us.