It wasn't a choice and it wasn't my will. Some people get the desire, but stories always come to me. Since early childhood, tales appear in my dreams, in my thoughts, in my emotions, my heart is full of them. As far as I can remember, as far as my early childhood... Stories were always here. There were always -fantastique- stories, too, events which couldn't happen in real life, a werewolf roaming in the woods, spaceships fighting, a dinosaur attacking a car. And they kept coming, and they never stop, it is a constant avalanche going through my whole soul. With time, I learned to select them... The stories you see are the stories that stay, the stories I have a particular passion in exploring.

Now, what -kept- me telling stories is another matter entirely. I always had friends and family to support me, to help me advance, and to make me understand that my ideas had artistic value, and that the way I was telling them was entertaining; I had this good fortune. I also had the luck and privilege to get all of the time, energy and focus I needed to thrive, so my stories blossomed and met even more love.

I wish to tell stories for my entire life, and I also want to discover stories told by other people! I want to wander in millions of different universes.