I'm Jules.

It's just me. Well, me and my circumstances.

A piece of a naked soul in search of beauty. Made of winter and empty pages. I could also be a mirror of what I was once.
All I know is what my answer would be if someone asked me what I am: I collect moments. I pick up instants, experiences, call it whatever you want. I don't care if they hurt, make me shiver or get my blood to boil. I extract their peculiar essence and try to keep it locked up in my poems in order to never forget what I am made of.

I write, not scared of the whispers of my frustrated reality, of the intentions I suppress to keep my feet touching the clouds.

I fight to achieve what I dream of, so vehemently that it actually works out. But living in the lands of the wind and the birds also entails the necessity of understanding the risk of a terribly painful fall.

I would be no-one without music. Without the feeling that runs down my spine everytime I stroke the strings of a guitar or the keys of a piano.

I love sleeping. And vietnamise food.

It's been a long time since I started to skate, because risk and adrenaline make me feel free in a world where freedom has got a price.

I don't laugh often, because I never fake a smile.

It's very important to comprehend that the only thing I believe in is death. There is no place for gods, karmas or unbelievable powers in the little space of my existence. Everything exists because death exists.

Finally, I'm convinced that being different to the others completely lacks any value if you have to make an effort to be it.