It's not a resume. It's a trajectory.

It's not a resume. It's a trajectory.

After having gone through all of them, these tables do not ask to be interpreted or defended. They do not explain, do not justify, do not compete. They stand there like the traces left on the ground after a long crossing: they do not organize the landscape, but make it readable. This is not a resume in the administrative sense of the term; it is not meant to convince or simplify. It is a life that has taken the shape it could take, crossing different languages without ever considering them as separate compartments. Computer science, poetry, cinema, software, artificial intelligence have not been separate chapters, but variations of the same gesture: seeking a rhythm, building meaning, holding together vision and work.

I chose to tell my story this way because lists almost always lie. They flatten, line up what has actually happened through overlaps, deviations, sudden returns. Here instead there is time, with its accelerations and pauses, there are crises, fresh starts, changes of instrument that were not escapes but necessities. If you are looking for a perfect profile, this probably won't serve you. If, on the other hand, you are interested in understanding how a person thinks while working, how they navigate problems instead of avoiding them, then perhaps these images say more than any list of skills.

Everything else, if needed, can be asked. This was the part I did not want to reduce.

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